


Swan Dive

by marshmallowtasha



Category: Veronica Mars (Movie 2014), Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-26 23:18:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 43,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2670095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marshmallowtasha/pseuds/marshmallowtasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick always knew he had to face it all eventually.  Can he manage to pull his life together in the end?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own anything Rob Thomas has created, and I'm happy to not be sued for borrowing them.

His eyes felt heavy and his head was hammering so fucking bad; he just wanted to turn down the sound. _What the fuck happened?_ There was an unidentifiable beeping sound nearby and glaring overhead lights blazing through the insides of his closed eyelids. He didn’t know where he was, but strange beds were nothing new. It was just that normally, the beds were way more comfortable, and there was a warm, naked body next to him.

Dick opened his eyes just a sliver. The paneled ceiling didn’t look familiar so he turned his head slightly to the right, cataloging each new item that he saw. Transparent bag of liquid hanging from a pole. Blue machine with a heartbeat line flickering across the screen. Metal bar on the side of the bed. _Well fuck._

“Wll frg.” Dick‘s attempt to vocalize his thoughts came out as a barely intelligible mumble. He heard rustling from his left side. Turning his head towards the sound very slowly – he’d realized right away that moving meant nausea – he found Logan shifting himself to lean forward in a tiny visitor’s chair. He did not look happy.

“Hey, Dick.” Logan said quietly, face neutral but eyes blazing. “Well fucking done.”

“Wha-?” Dick tried again to get coherent words out of his mouth, but his throat was burning and his tongue felt three sizes too big.

“You tell me, man. The hospital left me a message at home telling me you were here. I came as soon as Veronica was able to track me down at the base. Three fucking days ago. You have been unconscious for three fucking days, asshole.“

It took all of Dick’s limited concentration to put together what Logan was telling him but even in the state he was in he could infer Logan’s opinion of his situation. Logan was thoroughly pissed off, and Dick thought that his friend could be a little more understanding, considering that he’d just woken up in a hospital bed. _I mean, man, it’s not like Logan’s never had a little too good a time at a party before. Whatever I did must have been legendary though, for me to end up here. Wish I could remember what it was._

He must have looked confused, because Logan shook his head as though answering Dick’s unasked question. “All I know is that the ambulance picked you up at Sunset Cliffs. They said that you-“ Logan cut himself off, unable to continue.

Dick just stared at his best friend. Logan was not only pissed off, but Dick got the distinct impression that he was really distraught. Signaling for water, he drank from the straw that Logan put to his lips, and took a few moments while the water soothed his throat to recall his most recent memories. They returned to him in fits and starts, but he managed to remember enough to be able to explain himself at least.

He had stopped at the 09er after a business meeting with his foundation’s lawyers. It had been a particularly frustrating meeting, his lawyers treating him as though he didn’t understand the rudiments of a contract. But he’d shown them when he pointed out the loophole that they had tried to get past him. _Assholes_. He knew that he gave off the impression that he was just an idiot surfer, more often high than not, but he had a head for business and the university degree to prove it. In fact, he had his university degree _in spite_ of his frat boy behavior and reputation. That in itself should prove how much business sense he actually had.

All he’d wanted to do was blow off some steam. He’d met some girls, bought them a few drinks, flashed his private pharmaceutical stash, and gotten himself invited to a party somewhere. He couldn’t even remember actually getting to the Cliffs. His memory got fuzzy somewhere after chasing the little blue pills with a glass of Cristal, but he did remember the giggling and soft skin and not wanting to go home to an empty house. Parties were the only places where he never had to fight his reputation. It was always easier to just go with it all. And let’s face it, playing the hot, rich playboy wasn’t a bad way to live.

Then he remembered beautiful full lips egging him on, and being sure that the water was deep enough.

Dick tried a few times to make himself heard; his voice sounded like sandpaper, but if he could just get the story out, Logan would totally get it! Back in the good old days, his buddy was no stranger to partying right along next to him when life got generally shitty, after all, and he knew how shitty Dick’s life actually was. Finally, hoarse but desperate to make his BFF understand this time, Dick managed to slowly explain.

“Dude! C’mon, man!” Dick paused to cough and sip some more water. “We were partying up on the cliffs and, -“ he paused again, struggling to remain audible and breathe at the same time. “- you know, the babes, they always like that macho man shit.” He tried to look smug but succeeded only in wincing in pain. “Gotta give the ladies what they want if you want the booty. Fair’s fair.”

Logan leapt out of his chair, lips clenched in a tight line as if to hold back the angry words. He closed his eyes and started counting; Dick could see his lips moving as he mouthed the numbers. _I must not be telling it right. He didn’t get it. The lawyers, I need to tell him about the shitty meeting._ But Logan had reached twenty, taken a deep breath and opened his eyes before Dick could find his voice again. “Your swan dive must not have impressed the babes enough, because they took off after they called 911. There was no one there when the paramedics arrived. They had to scrape your carcass off the rocks.” Logan walked to the window, turning his back so that Dick could no longer see his face.

“Guess I need more practice.” Dick tried to joke to lighten the mood. When Logan didn’t answer, he switched subjects, trying for a little sympathy. “So what’s the damage? How long before I can go and see how much my lawyers have fucked up my life since I’ve been in here?”

Logan didn’t turn around, nor did he directly answer the question. “How drunk were you anyway? Must have been pretty drunk, ‘cause you still reek of the shit. I mean, they had to pump your stomach. You know, in case you couldn’t tell from the sore throat.”

“What the fuck, man? It was a fucking party! What else do you do at a party?” Dick tried to exclaim, but he felt so tired he was pretty sure that his annoyance didn’t come across the way he wanted. What good was having your friends around when all they did was give you shit when you were down?

“What else did you do? E? Coke? Have you graduated to heroin yet?” Logan wasn’t shouting, but Dick was pretty sure that the easy tone he was using to ask the questions meant something worse.

“I dunno; I don’t do heroin, though, dude. You know that. That shit will fuck you up!”

“Mmm.” Logan said noncommittally, and then turned around. Dick had only seen the face he was making a few times before, all times when Veronica had gone nuclear on his life. “I don’t know that, actually. I don’t know what the actual fuck you’re doing anymore. All that I do know is that you haven’t been a goddamn frat boy for over a decade. And that someone else in my life looked like they were trying to fucking kill themselves by jumping off a fucking cliff! Son of a fucking bitch, Dick! I know it’s hard, but enough! Enough!” By this time, although trying to keep his voice low, Logan was so angry he was literally spitting out the words.

Dick tried to focus on his best friend, but the edges of his vision were starting to go white and his eyelids refused to stay open. “God! I’m sorry dude!” was what Dick meant to say, but all that Logan heard was Dick exhale a breath before the machines began to scream.

 

> Dick is sitting on the grass in the front yard of his childhood home, leaning against the giant palm tree that grows like an arrow stuck in the bull’s eye of a grassy circle in the middle of the curved driveway. _How the fuck did I get here? Where’s Logan?_ Either he had knocked his head pretty hard or he was going to have to have a word with his supplier about what his drugs are getting cut with.
> 
> Then, the astonishing sight in front of him seizes the breath in his lungs. He’s dumbfounded.
> 
> “So you’re finally ready?”
> 
> Dick unwillingly drags his gaze away from the child in the yard and turns to find Keith Mars leaning against the palm tree just behind him, hands in the pockets of his beige Walmart liquidation-sale jacket. Now he knows something’s weird, because why the hell would Veronica’s dad be standing with him in the front of his house. “Huh?"
> 
> Keith smiles gently. “You’re finally ready to face it?”
> 
> “Face what, dude – I mean, sir?”
> 
> “Everything.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own this world, I just like to play in it. Thanks RT!
> 
> Quick formatting note: anything indented with the quote line is dream sequence. Italics were just getting too unwieldy.

 

> Dick watches as Keith lowers himself to the ground with more grace than he would have assumed the old guy was capable of. Settling his joined hands on his paunch, Keith leans back against the tree and looks over to the driveway. A faint whiff of Aqua Velva drifts by on the breeze.
> 
> It doesn’t seem possible to be so hyper-aware of a figment of one’s imagination, and yet Dick can feel the presence of the boy fifty feet from him in the same way that he can feel the grass under his fingertips.
> 
> _He’s not really there. Wake up, man. He’s not really there._ The chant is on repeat in his mind and he stares firmly at Keith’s face, refusing to confirm that the mirage is real.
> 
> _Please let him be real._
> 
> “Uh, Mr. Mars, sir, what the fu-“ Dick catches himself just as Keith puts his dad-face on and raises a stern eyebrow. “I mean, what the hell is going on? I’m pretty sure I’m not hung over, but I have no idea how I got here, dude. Man. Sir.” _How do I address the man who raised a hurricane?_
> 
> “Dick, you’ve known my daughter since the third grade. You’re her boyfriend’s best friend. You’re also, God help us all, an adult. For the purposes of this conversation, call me…Mr. Mars.” Keith finishes dryly.
> 
> Dick bobs his head, acknowledging internally that this is probably the best he’s going to get from the man his brother almost murdered, but at the same time, feeling lost and hoping for a little compassion. “Look, Mr. Mars, I’m either on a bad trip or I’ve lost my goddamn mind, so I’m sorry if this sounds crass, or not polite, or whatever, but what the fuck is a six-year-old Beav-“ he takes a deep breath, “-Cassidy doing over there? And why the fuck am I sitting in front of a house I sold seven years ago?”
> 
> “Those are excellent questions, Dick.” Keith responds without actually answering anything, using the same tone a teacher might use to encourage a particularly slow student. “I’d imagine you must be pretty confused.”
> 
> Dick’s attention is suddenly jerked away from Keith by a voice coming from around the side of the house. His face goes white in realization.
> 
> _Jesus Christ! That’s me._
> 
> Dick jumps to his feet and has to hold himself upright on the trunk of the palm tree when his own seven-year-old self comes into view. He whips his head around, silently demanding an explanation from his guide, but all he sees is a sympathetic smile in return.
> 
> “Wakeupwakeupwakeupwakeup!” Dick slaps himself on both cheeks as though trying to rouse a corpse, but he’s shaking so hard that he doesn’t have the power to make the blows effective.
> 
> He can feel a reassuring hand on his leg and hear the man’s calm yet firm voice, full of authority. “Dick, stop. There’s nothing you can do but watch. You’re perfectly safe with me. Nothing’s going to hurt you. Now, sit!”
> 
> Dick immediately drops back down to the ground and closes his eyes.
> 
> _I don’t want to watch this. I can’t watch this._
> 
> But he can’t turn off his ears.
> 
> “Cass, what are you playing with?” He can hear kid-Dick ask his brother. His living, breathing brother. _God, why is this happening?_
> 
> “I’m making the flowers nice for mommy. Before she went away, she yelled at the gardener about how he wasn’t keeping the flowers nice in front. I wanted to make her come home again. To not be angry anymore.”
> 
> “Are those _pink_ gloves?” kid-Dick starts laughing uproariously and adult-Dick can’t help but open his eyes to watch the beginning of the end. He remembers what’s coming. He’s about to put a label on his brother that will cause him no end of suffering and he deserves to see it happen—face it, relive it—after what he’s done. He deserves much worse.
> 
> _Why did I have to be such a little shit? All he wanted was for us to use his name, right up until he stepped off that goddamn roof. Cassidy. It’s not hard to say. His fucking name was Cassidy._
> 
> “Shut up, stupid! I couldn’t find other ones,” Cassidy whines. “Sto-op
> 
> “You’re such a girl, wearing girl gloves. Cass is a gi-irl! Cass is a gi-irl!” Kid-Dick harasses his brother in a sing-song voice. “You are a beaver. Cass is a beaver! Cass is a beaver!”
> 
> “Shut up! I am not! My teeth are normal-looking, fart-head!”
> 
> Adult-Dick scrutinizes his little brother. Cassidy is standing chillingly still, fists clenched. The boy’s face is blank, held neutral, but his eyes… They may be filled with unshed tears but those do nothing to hide the pure loathing. Dick can almost see all the options for torturing him that Cass is considering flicker through his eyes, even from this distance.
> 
> _How come I never saw how much he hated me? Look at him, standing there. I thought he was just a pussy for taking it, but look at him. Jesus, he would kill me right there if he could. I’m sorry, Cassidy. I was the one with the name that fit. I was a dick. It wasn’t you, dude. It wasn’t you._
> 
> Kid-Dick just laughs harder. “That’s not what I meant, booger brain.” He can barely get the words out between the guffaws. “Casey’s older brother told me what a beaver was at school yesterday. And you’re a girl, so you’re a beaver!” With that parting shot, kid-Dick runs back around the side of the house chanting “Beaver! Beaver!” until he can no longer be heard.
> 
> Six-year-old Cassidy stands staring at his brother’s retreating back. The face that he had been holding so tightly controlled has now collapsed and the tears he hadn’t allowed to escape are now running down his face. He wrenches off the gloves just as Mr. Casablancas comes out the front door, and then runs up to his father, all indignant rage, looking for justice.
> 
> “Daddy! Dick’s calling me names!”
> 
> His father barely acknowledges Cassidy as he checks his watch and course corrects slightly, side-stepping around the boy to walk towards the car pulling out of the garage. “Cassidy, stop acting like a girl; boys don’t cry. You have to stand up for yourself in this world or people will keep thinking you’re soft! Man up!” He looks around the driveway. “Where is your brother, anyway? We have to get to the range.”
> 
> Cassidy quickly wipes the tears off of his face and follows after his father. “Can I come too, Daddy? I wanna come.”
> 
> “Dick! Let’s go, son!” his father shouts. Kid-Dick races out the door and jumps into the back seat of the car. “Only big _boys_ get to go the range, Cassidy. You need to earn it. Is this behaviour earning it?” He shakes his head, turns and gets in.
> 
> As the car pulls out of the driveway, Adult-Dick watches his brother stand there with tears dripping off of his chin onto his shoes. He clambers to his feet, wanting to go over there and do something, say something, but Keith checks him with “He can’t see you.”
> 
> Unable to take anymore, Dick explodes in frustration, pacing around the tree, arms flailing. “So why am I here then, if I can’t do anything? Am I playing the role of karma’s bitch again? Because I’m pretty sure that my performance is Oscar worthy at this point.”
> 
> Keith’s expression has been hard since they watched the scene with Cassidy and his dad, and Dick assumes that, as usual, he’s disappointed the man in some way. So when he hears what Keith says next, and notices that his eyes go soft with pity, he’s actually thrown for a loop.
> 
> “You really don’t see it, do you?”
> 
> “See what? That I just sentenced my kid brother to his death when he was six years old? Yeah, I didn’t really need to relive that memory, thanks. I’d managed to bury it pretty fucking deep.” Dick looks down at his shoes, shamefaced.
> 
> “No, son, that the person to blame here is your father.” Every word attempts to pierce through Dick’s guilt, but it is a losing battle against the hardened shell around his heart.
> 
> _I would love to believe that, man. If only it was true._ “How do you figure that?”
> 
> He sees Keith sigh and shake his head. When he speaks, Dick can hear the restrained outrage in his voice. “Where do you think you learned that behavior from? Did you not just hear your father calling Cassidy a girl too? Could you possibly have picked it up from him, and used it to gain his approval?” Keith pulls himself to his feet, and puts his hands on Dick’s shoulders, looking him straight in the eye. “Dick, what just happened there, that was everyday life in your house, right?” Dick barely nods.
> 
> A low growl escapes Keith’s throat, and Dick can see him fight to maintain control of his emotions. Wonder and gratitude for the man suddenly fill Dick’s chest, that there is maybe someone other than Logan who cares enough about him to react this way. And just a little bit of jealousy towards Veronica.
> 
> “I’m here to tell you that’s not normal fatherly behavior. You calling your brother names, now _that’s_ normal seven-year-old behavior. Veronica may be an only child, but I grew up with two older brothers and a sister. I remember,” Keith says with a knowing smile. “The difference is, my parents cuffed us when they caught us saying things like that and eventually, we learned that that kind of behavior is unacceptable, the same way most kids do. You learned it too, didn’t you? Only much later and in the most horrible way possible.” Keith’s eyes get dangerous again. “It was his job to teach you, and he failed. So did your mother.”
> 
> Dick considers the other man’s words. True, his parents hadn’t been particularly good role models. He chuckles internally. _That’s like admitting that Logan is a little into Ronnie!_ Keith is probably the only parent he knows who is any good at the parenting thing, so he might be right. At least a little bit. It dawns on him at this point that this is probably why Keith is here with him now. Who else would be able to tell that his dad was a loser? But Dick can’t ignore the simple fact that _he himself_ had made his brother’s life a living hell.
> 
> “It still happened and it was still me who started it.” Dick says with conviction, unable to accept the get out of jail free card he is being handed.
> 
> “It was,” Keith agrees, “and you will never be fully absolved of that. But shift at least part of the blame to where it belongs; firmly on your parents’ shoulders and focus on making amends and forgiving yourself. You’ve started with the first part. It’s time to move on to forgiveness.”
> 
> Dick’s mind is spinning. He wants so badly to accept what Keith is telling him, but the guilt that he’s been living with for well over a decade is too familiar, it feels too right, for him to let it go. He’s tried so hard to do something good with his godforsaken fortune, and he thinks his foundation might be helping some kids after all, but none of that will bring his brother back. None of it changes anything.
> 
> _My fault. It could have been us against the world, but instead I left him all alone._
> 
> Suddenly, Dick hears shouts and noises coming from somewhere behind him, but when he turns to look, nothing’s there. He turns back to Keith, but the man has disappeared. Cassidy is also gone from where he was standing just moments before. A quick scan of the area shows Dick that his brother is now aiming his slingshot at the neighbour’s cat, which is sitting in a tree. He misses by several inches, but whatever he shot makes a small explosion of flame and smoke, resulting in a smoldering black spot on the trunk.
> 
> _Jesus, he’s trying to blow up a cat. Didn’t I learn in Psych that’s, like, a sign or something? Whatever. Still my fault._
> 
> The shouts are starting to get louder, and his vision is whiting out again.

 

“Another 20 cc of methyl-“ Dick can’t make out the rest of the unidentified voice’s medical mumbo jumbo and nor can he open his eyes to see who said it.

“DICK! DAMMIT DICK, WAKE UP!” _Logan, I’m trying, man. Gimme a minute._

“Logan, come outside. Let the doctors do what they need to do. You aren’t helping.” _Ronnie? What’s she doing here?_

“Listen to your girlfriend, sir. Get out of here and let us work. He’s going to be fine, but not if you distract us with your shouting.”

“Veronica, let me g-“ He can hear Logan’s voice drift farther away and a door close.

 Blackness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as ever to Bryrosea for helping up the feeeeelllingggsss, as she likes to say :) You're the best!  
> And thanks to all of you reading. I know Dick is hard to love for some, or even like for others, but I hoped here to redeem him a bit.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick can't shake these damn dreams. This time he has to deal with a harpy, and without beer, dammit!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RT owns this world. I hope he doesn't sue me for crashing his party.

 

> Woomp…woomp…woomp….
> 
> The bass thumps deep within his chest, his whole body vibrating with the rhythmic pounding of the music. It’s loud, obnoxiously loud, frankly, just past that noise threshold where sound becomes more tactile than auditory.
> 
> Dick stares around the Pi Sig common room, filled to overflowing with writhing, sweaty bodies. He is perched on a three-legged stool in a dark corner of the room desperately wishing he could pick up the plastic cup of beer that sits on the small table in front of him. He’s already tried three times, but while his hand doesn’t go all Casper and pass through the drink, he still isn’t able to grasp it. It’s strange, since he can most certainly feel the stool supporting his ass. The elusive cup, however, he just cannot touch. Which sucks, because if he needs to sit through another one of these damn dreams, he would really prefer to do it with some alcohol to take the edge off.
> 
> His hand is moving to try for a fourth time when a voice comes from his left, one that has always registered as “harpy bitch” in his mind.
> 
> “God, idiot. Are you five? You. can’t. touch. it. Knock it off and pay attention, so we can get this over with.”
> 
> Dick’s eyes go wide with shock at finding his long-ago ex standing next to him, picking at her perfectly manicured nails and looking for all the world like she’s smelling something putrid. _Well, Madison did pretty much always make that face, dude. God knows you didn’t date her for her award winning personality._
> 
> “What the hell are you doing here, Maddy?”
> 
> “Babysitting, apparently.” Madison rolls her eyes impatiently, her chin lifting a few more inches, her back ramrod straight.
> 
> Dick notices that her hair is the same bottle blond colour she wore in high school, not the still-not-natural warm brown she’d had the last time he’d seen her. He wonders snidely how many dozens of other people know that her carpet doesn’t match her drapes, and chuckles quietly to himself. “You didn’t even go to Hearst. Why are you here?”
> 
> Clearly thinking him a complete idiot, Madison does nothing to hide her impatience. “Because-“ she draws in the dramatic breath of a martyr “-I’m the one who happens to be your last serious girlfriend. Lucky me.” Her tone does not indicate that she actually feels blessed by this privilege, and she returns her focus back to her nails, mumbling what Dick thinks are general insults towards his beloved frat and how sub-par they were compared to the ones at USC.
> 
> “Look, Mads, there is nothing you can tell me that I want to hear, babe. Run along. I’ll figure out whatever this is by myself.” Dick scans the crowd searching for his own blond shag in the throng.
> 
> Madison’s trademark sarcasm layers her smile and her words. “Dick, your brain couldn’t figure out the pizza tip. You can’t even spot yourself twenty feet away.“ She grabs his chin and jerks his face hard in the direction of his nineteen year old self. “Get with the program.”
> 
> Dick leaps off the stool, pulling his face from her grasp. “Ow! Step off, bitch! Jesus Christ!”
> 
> Madison is clearly unfazed by his outburst, and coos, “Aww…Is wittle Dicky-Wicky hurt?” Her tone then take a sharp turn into disgust. “Please, drama queen. Relax.”
> 
> Dick runs his hand through his hair, taking a deep breath to get himself under control. _Man, she wasn’t that good a lay. Why the fuck did I ever put up with her shit?_ He sinks back onto the stool and returns to watching himself grinding up against a half-naked redhead. He’s actually pretty impressed with what he’s seeing. _Look at that hot chick right there. That’s what college was all about. Parties, babes, booze. It didn’t get any better than that. Man, it still doesn’t get any better than that._ Except, you know, when more than a few days go by without a party and he’s forced to act all mature and shit. Good thing he didn’t let it happen very often.
> 
> The red-head is whispering into Frat-Boy-Dick’s ear, and although they are clearly too far away to hear it, especially over the music, Dick and Madison both somehow hear that she’s asking if he has a yacht. They see the girl push her breasts a little closer to him, and hear him crack something about having a 40-footer, and a boat too. He grabs her ass and pulls her into his crotch while shoving his tongue down her throat.
> 
> Next to Dick, Madison is pretending to stick her finger down her throat and gag. He just looks over at her and raises one eyebrow, unamused. “And you call me a drama queen?” Shaking his head, he looks away. “Just say what you’ve gotta say and get the fuck away from me already.”
> 
> “OK, let me put this into simple words so that even you can understand. That guy right there?” – she waves her hand in the direction of Frat-Boy-Dick – “He’s a creeper. And that girl he’s with? She’s the worst kind of gold-digging skank. What’s worse is that you’re _still_ that guy. At least she eventually got a job and grew up.” She turns her gaze on Dick with disdain in her eyes, but also just a tiny smidge of pity.
> 
> Dick can’t help glancing over when he feels her looking at him. He expects the disdain, it had coloured most of their relationship, but he doesn’t care about it anymore now than he did then. What he won’t accept is her pity. “Fuck you. You were happy enough to be my skank for years. Who are you to talk?”
> 
> “Look, asshole. You think you can just fuck anything with boobs, as long as she’s hot, and no one’s going to get hurt. That as long as you can convince yourself that she’s willing, who cares? Well, fuck you. It didn’t work like that then, and it doesn’t work like that now.” Madison has lost all restraint; Dick can see it in her eyes. The words come spitting out of her mouth unrehearsed and raw. He wonders briefly if maybe she cared more about him back then than she let on, and she’s spent all these years getting more and more bitter. But then he remembers that she gave as good as she got, and his guilt vaporizes. “Do you know how many of your one night stands cried over you? How many convinced themselves that they deserved the way you treated them? How many thought they might be pregnant, or thought they caught something? I might be a heartless bitch, but even I know that no one deserves to feel like that.”
> 
> The heat of the crowd might be the cause of the flush on his cheeks or it might be because he’s angry. But if he’s perfectly honest with himself, Madison’s words embarrass him more than he wants to admit.
> 
> _Well fuck her_.
> 
> She’s probably just jealous. She’s realized that she peaked with him in high school, and now she wants to make him feel as shitty as she feels. No way. He looks at his younger self macking on his chick, hand halfway up her skirt already. _That’s how it was meant to be, dude. Don’t let anyone tell you different_.
> 
> His verbal smack down is halfway out of his mouth when he realizes that she isn’t there anymore. Which makes it even more fucking creepy when he hears her parting shot somewhere in the back of his mind, crystal clear despite the loud music. “By the way, if you have to spike her drink, she isn’t willing.”
> 
> It’s as though someone has thrown a bucket of ice down the back of his shirt. Her last words bounce off his eardrums, echoing in his mind, even picking up the melody of the music playing so that it repeats like the refrain of a song you can’t get out of your head. Dick’s hands squeeze his temples and his eyes clench shut as though if he shuts off all his senses he can magically block the words out. He shakes his head back and forth, bouncing slightly as though he’s trying to tamp down the guilt that is bubbling to the surface. _One time, damn it!_ He’d only done it that one time and the E didn’t even work!
> 
> _No, dammit. They want you, man. You’re sex on a stick. Emperor of the bedroom. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. The girls, they get it._
> 
> The icy sensation flows down his back into his arms and legs. He can feel the cold slide along his bones, deep in his joints, making his extremities tingle. The music is fading but he’s too afraid to open his eyes to see if the room is fading too. He’s just so cold…
> 
>  

“- c-c-cold-“ Dick mumbled through the cotton in his mouth. He thought he felt his hands shaking, but couldn’t focus enough to tell if it was true.

“Pass me the extra blanket from the cabinet please, Veronica?” Logan’s voice was very quiet, but Dick heard how worried he was.

A flannel blanket was tucked gently around his feet, then his knees, his arms, his shoulders, and finally, under his chin. Dick couldn’t manage to open his eyes, but he could tell that it must have been Veronica playing nursemaid when some kind of strawberry smell wafted by his nose.

“Dick, is that better?” Logan asked tentatively. “Are you awake, dude? They said the morphine can make you feel cold. It’s, uh, normal.”

It took every ounce of focus Dick had to formulate a coherent response. It frustrated him to no end to know what he wanted to say, but not be able to control his body. His words came out just above a whisper. “Mmm…better. Thanks, Ronnie. Are you giving me my sponge bath too?”

He could almost hear Veronica’s eye roll but he actually did hear Logan chuckle, and he was glad he could still get his friend to laugh. _I guess he isn’t still pissed at me_.

“Dick, you’d better recover before you piss me off. I’m not above tasering your ass in a hospital bed, and I don’t think five days in this bed is long enough,” Veronica threatened drily.

“You just want to look under my hospital gown. I get it.” The banter was helping him clear his head, and he attempted to open his eyes slightly. Logan was standing next to the bed, shadows under his eyes, staring down at him with such intensity it was as though he’d spent the last few days and nights willing Dick to get better using only the force of his mind. Veronica was sitting on the windowsill, legs dangling like a child, heels softly bouncing off the walls, looking at Logan as though _her_ stare was all that was keeping him standing. Well, that made sense. _She wouldn’t be here for me_.

Logan exhaled and Dick could see some of the tension leaving his body. “I’m alright, Dad. Chillax.”

Logan grinned down at his best friend. “Shut up, asshole, and get better. I leave in two weeks and I need my head in the game, not worrying about your sorry ass in here. You better be out because I need a ride to base.”

Dick nodded in the direction of his splinted leg.   “You’re going to have to get your lady friend to take you. Kinda hard to drive the Porsche with one leg. I’m sure you can find some way to make it worth her while, right Ronnie?”

“Logan, that’s two skeezy comments in five minutes. I think he’s going to be fine. C’mon, lets go home. You need to sleep, and so does he.”

“Yeah, go on home, dude. But stop at the nurse’s station first and round me up a hot little night nurse, would you? See if you can find me a redhead.”

Veronica jumped down off the windowsill and grabbed her purse, clearly past her tolerance level for Dick’s comments. “I’ll meet you at the elevators, Logan.”

Logan tried not to smile at the exchange, but he was clearly too relieved that his friend was able to joke around to get upset. “Yeah, I’ll be right there.” Turning to Dick, he said, “Just-“ he looked down at his hands still clenching the rail on the side of the bed- “don’t die tonight, okay?”

Dick knew that Logan was scared for him, and really did want to reassure him that he was fine. _How do I do that without sounding like some pussy bitch?_ “And miss out on trying that new board you got me? No chance.”

Logan smiled at him wanly before turning to go. “Night, Dick.”

“Night.”

* * *

 

It was closer to four weeks before Dick was allowed to leave the hospital, but at least Logan was satisfied with Dick’s progress when he left on tour. Two days before he left, Veronica walked into Dick’s room alone after supper. The patient was sitting up in bed watching an old _Ren and Stimpy_ rerun on The Cartoon Network.

“Well, well, well. What can I do you for, Ronnie? Is Logan supposed to be here? I would have thought you would have kept his balls tied to the bed posts until he shipped out.” Dick reached for the remote and muted the TV.

Veronica’s stern expression barely cracked in response to Dick’s baiting. She stopped at the end of his bed, hands in her trench coat pockets, and stared at him for a long moment before speaking.

“Dick, so help me God, if you give Logan one iota of anything to worry about while he is away, I will wait until you are well and then I will send you back in here myself. He needs focus and concentration while he’s out there, and I will not let you distract him from coming back to me. To us. Am I making myself clear?” Her eyes were boring holes into his.

“Ronnie, relax. Logan knows I’m fine. It takes more than this to get rid of the Dickmeister.” Dick tried to laugh off her concern. Logan was the most focused person he knew, with the exception of maybe Ronnie herself. There was no way that he’d let this situation mess up his mind while he was flying.

“Like a cockroach, I know,” Veronica volleyed back. “Look, just make sure that when he comes to say goodbye tomorrow, he doesn’t leave worried.”

“Will do. Now if you don’t mind, I’m watching something here.” Dick reached for the remote and turned back up the sound, pointedly dismissing his best friend’s girlfriend. He could feel her watching him for another long second before she turned on her heel and walked out of the room.

The next day, when Logan came to visit – sans Veronica – Dick made sure that his buddy knew nothing had changed. He was the same old Dick he’d been before the accident. OK sure, he had wanted to maybe talk to Logan about those two crazy dreams he’d had, but there hadn’t been any others, so he kept his mouth shut. It was probably just the morphine anyway, but now that he was weaned off that shit, he was fine. No use stressing out his friend. Not that Veronica was right or anything. So when Logan finely got up to leave, Dick ignored his not-so-subtle leading questions and made it clear that everything was fine. No one would be able to blame him because Logan was worried.

Almost two weeks later, Dick walked – hobbled - into his beach house, glad to be home. He immediately headed for the phone and dialed his buddy Tyler to find out when and where the next party was.

He was fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to @bryrosea for her wonderful beta-ing skills and helping me figure out what I'm trying to say in this story.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick's dreams get worse and start to affect his game.

It was dark. Like, completely black, can’t see the ceiling or the walls, you might as well be blind, B-L-A-C-K. He knew that having the lined curtains was worth it most nights, but there was something about being awake in the dark at – what, two am ish? – in his frame of mind that made Dick regret letting himself be talked into them by his designer.

He was physically wiped out. Completely healed— _Halle-fucking-lujah!_ —but exhausted from the three parties and four business meetings he’d had this week. He’d even opted out of a date with Brandi again tonight to recoup so that he could be in top shape for Savannah tomorrow. His mind wandered to his date the next evening and, if the room had been a little brighter, the leer would have been clear on his face. Blond hair, nice rack, tight little ass. _Aw, yeah!_ It had been three weeks since he’d been released from the hospital, and although he hadn’t been a monk, he certainly hadn’t been in top sexin’ condition. Savannah was his reward for listening to his doctors and holding off an extra few days. _She’s gonna be worth every minute of waitin’, dude._

If only he could let himself sleep.

_Fucking dreams_ , Dick thought bitterly. _I so don’t need this shit._

He didn’t have them every night, but when they did come he had no idea what set them off. It didn’t matter what he drank, what pills he used, or how many blowjobs he got to relax. The dreams came randomly and he was tired of re-living his less than stellar past. Tests he’d cheated on. Beat downs he’d given. Girls he’d scammed. On and on it went until he was scared to see what came next. 

_I must be tired enough by now. If I show up all fucked up for our date tomorrow, Savannah’s never gonna go out with me again. The hell with it._

There was no way he was going to sacrifice the chance with of his sexiest, but most temperamental, sure things. He rolled over, burrowed down into the blanket and fell fast asleep.

 

> The bright sun on a windy beach smacks him awake more thoroughly than a bucket of cold water.
> 
> _Goddamn it!_
> 
> Dick hangs his head dejectedly, hands on hips, eyes closed. He takes a slow, frustrated breath. The salty, fishiness of the ocean fills his nostrils and he lets the smell of his happy place calm him. Only when the pounding in his ears subsides does he look around to locate the younger version of himself he knows is nearby.
> 
> _All right brain, what scene in “This Is Your Shit Life” am I re-living this time?_ Just as he thinks it, Dick spots himself and decides he doesn’t want to know after all.
> 
> _Really? It wasn’t embarrassing enough the first time?_ Shaking his head, he walks over towards the couple talking further down the beach. About ten feet away from them, he stops and looks left, where he knows his brother is standing.
> 
> “Of course it’s you,” he says to Cassidy in an acerbic tone.
> 
> “Of course it is,” Cassidy replies mildly. “Did you expect someone else?”
> 
> Cassidy looks over to where Mac is reluctantly listening to a half-drunk apology. “Dude, you were really an idiot here, you know that right?”
> 
> Dick’s face goes crimson. “I know,” he mumbles.
> 
> “And don’t even get me started on how you acted here –“
> 
> In a blink, Dick finds himself in his old house, watching a high school version of himself mock Mac and Cassidy, who he’d found making out on the couch while watching a movie.
> 
> “– and here –“
> 
> They are standing at the school carnival and Dick is berating the couple, doing everything he can to embarrass his little brother. He watches as Cassidy drops Mac’s hand in a rush of self-consciousness and then storms away. He can see the revulsion in Mac’s eyes as she glares at him.
> 
> “– and especially here.”
> 
> Dick cringes as he watches himself, so drunk he needed to hold himself up on the wall of the Hearst dorm hallway, call Mac Cassidy’s beard. Guilt overwhelms him when he actually sees her recoil. He’d been so far gone at the time that he had no conscious memory of what happened other than that he was an ass and she was pissed off. Now he can see clearly how his outburst hit home. Quietly pleading, he looks at his brother. “Can we not, Cass? I fucking know, okay? Why do you think I tried to apologize?”
> 
> The surroundings flash away yet again, and the fresh air confirms that they’re back at the beach.
> 
> “This is apologizing?” Cassidy exclaims, waving towards the couple in front of them. Mac’s hand is held in front of younger Dick’s face, blocking his puckered lips as he leans in for a kiss. They all watch her, clearly grossed out, walk away as fast as she can through the shifting sand.
> 
> “Hey! I tried!” Dick shoves his hands in his pockets and looks at his feet, pouting.
> 
> “Oh my God, Dick. I have no words.” Cassidy turns away exasperated, ready to abandon his brother right there. “Seriously, this is never going to work,” he says under his breath.
> 
> Irritation and defeat pour from Dick’s person, so much so that he’s sure that the sunny day they are visiting may have just visibly dimmed. “No. No it’s not. I wish all of you fucking spirit guides or whatever-you-are would stop trying this intervention bullshit and just let me get through my days in peace. I’m not worth the effort, trust me.”
> 
> Dick sinks to his knees in the sand and then falls forward, his right hand beating the beach. He wants so desperately to expel the turmoil inside of him, make the sand fly everywhere, punch his way to the other side of the world.
> 
> The sand doesn’t move and he curses this dream crap yet again.
> 
> Cassidy remains standing above him but casts no shadow over the body on the ground. “That’s your problem right there, bro. You can’t deny it anymore. It’s too much to bury, even under all the booze and babes and 8-balls. There _is_ no more peace.” A humourless laugh escapes. “I get it, trying to escape. I guess I was spectacularly successful at it, too. The thing is, Dick, it was too late for me. I’d fucked it all up so royally already that there was nothing else for me to do _but_ escape. But you, what are you escaping from? You survived Dad’s bullshit. And mine. What the hell are you doing all of this for?”
> 
> The response is automatic, rote. “Just lookin’ for a good time, dude.”
> 
> A long silence elapses. Dick stares at the sand, his gaze so intense that he could be counting the grains. He knows that Cassidy is waiting for a better answer than the company line, but he doesn’t know what else to say. He looks left at Mac walking away from him – both hims - down the beach towards Wallace. He tries to think back, to remember what was going through his head at the time, because the face that he sees on his drunk, frat-boy self is completely blank.
> 
> _Ghostworld is better than all of us._
> 
> The thought appears in a wink, clear as day. That’s what he’d ben thinking. It’s even still true today, although she is miles away from being Ghostworld anymore. He remembers how she looked at the reunion, all sleek and shit, full of confidence and attitude. These days she knows what she wants and she goes after it. He can see it every time he runs into her at whatever party Logan and Veronica are having.
> 
> He remembers how angry he had been at her; that she could just pick up and function after that night at the Grand. Really, though, he’d been angry way before that, at her _and_ at Cass. How dare they have found each other? How dare she make his brother happy? Dick didn’t have anyone to make _him_ happy, so why did his brat of a younger brother get to have it if he couldn’t?
> 
> If there was one thing that Dick knew about, it was being alone. He’d had no parents worthy of the name. Not even a decent nanny—one who smelled of Nivea and empanadas. Little old abuelas always loved kids, but no, his dad had to go and hire whatever hot piece of ass he could find who would nominally make sure the boys didn’t set the house on fire. Then, when they got too old for nannies, Dick Sr. just started marrying the tramps. And it wasn’t even worth it to spare a thought for Bettina. His mother never spared a thought for them.
> 
> Then there was Madison, a girlfriend who hated him even though he had legitimately tried to be decent to her in the early weeks of their relationship. After a while, though, he just figured if she wouldn’t like him, at least she’d fuck him. Until she didn’t anymore. 
> 
> Sure he had his friends, but what kind of pussy did you have to be to get all emo over your bros in high school? They were just there to hang with. And there was always Cass. Cass was in the same situation; he understood and made it so that Dick wasn’t the only one. But then Cassidy did what Dick couldn’t do. He’d found someone who made him happy, and Dick just couldn’t let that be true, because if it was, then that made Dick that much more pathetic than he already felt. 
> 
> Cassidy’s voice breaks in to Dick’s reverie. “You know what pisses me off the most, Dick? She was the only person besides you whose opinion meant anything to me. And when I died, all you did was make her feel worse when all I would have wanted was for her to feel better.”
> 
> A jolt of anger through Dick’s gut propels him to his feet. His hands curl into fists at his sides and he shakes with anger. In a rasping voice, he spits back, “Well, maybe you should have thought of that before you shot at her best friend, blew up a plane and then jumped off a roof. You know, after you killed a busload of people.”
> 
> Cassidy flushes, but it’s not clear to Dick if it’s in anger or embarrassment. He steps into Dick’s personal space until they are nose to nose, and responds quietly, “And _you_ could have realized that Mac might have understood what you were going through. You could have tried to find someone who you could lean on a little, not just a fuck and fly. Not everyone leaves, you know. Mac made me realize that maybe there were a few people who were worth keeping around. Who you might want to stick around. You need to find those people, Dick.”
> 
> “Yeah, well Logan’s got my back when I need it, so I’m doin’ just fine, thank you very much!”
> 
> “Oh? Is Logan there to hold your hand in the dark every night? I hadn’t noticed. Well, I guess you’ve got everything all figured out then. Have a nice life, Dick.” Cassidy snaps his fingers between there faces.
> 
>  

Just as though a light switch had been flicked, the sun turned off and Dick was back in a pit of darkness. He wasn’t even sure if his eyes were open until he turned over and saw the faintest of glowing watch hands on his bedside table.

Barely four o’clock.

_Jesus Christ. Savannah’s never going to fuck me again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously never thought I'd get this chapter out. Thank goodness for the greatest beta ever. Bryrosea, you're a miracle worker and the best cheerleader ever.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BROTP conversation between Mac and Logan starts shocking and then turns to Dick. BROTP conversation between Mac and Veronica starts saucy and then turns to Dick. Then there's a little bit of Dick. Mac POV.

Veronica’s laptop rang suddenly startling Mac, who was working on it at Veronica’s place while her friend was in the shower. Her fingers paused over the keyboard and she cocked her head, listening. Yup, the shower was still running.

Shrugging her shoulders, she decided to take a minute to check in with Logan herself before she went to get Veronica. Even though they had become good friends after Veronica went away and better ones since she’d come back, they weren’t in a place where he called her when he was deployed. Mac clicked the green Accept button and sat back so that her face was visible in the small top corner window. The connection took a minute to settle, the black screen resolving itself into…

“Hey! Woah, dude!” Mac jumped out of her chair, turned around, arms raised to cover her face. Laughter bubbled from the safe zone behind her hands.

“Mac, what the fu-!” Logan exclaimed, surprised and, based on what she could hear, scrambling to cover himself.

Howling, Mac doubled over, but she was careful not to turn around. ”Are-are you decent y-yet?”

A muffled “Yes” indicated he was pulling a shirt over his head, so Mac assumed it was safe to turn around and sit back down. She took a few deep breaths to calm her giggles.

“Yeah, yeah…hilarious. Where’s Veronica? Why are you answering her Skype calls?” Logan was clearly irritated that his plan was ruined and apparently a little embarrassed. Mac didn’t think the guy who had once streaked naked through his sociology class _could_ get embarrassed, but his red face said different.

Mac smirked at him through the camera. “You don’t have to be uncomfortable, Logan. I know what they look like.” _Even if it has been a while_. “Of course, I didn’t expect to find one quite so up in my face when I came to fix Veronica’s laptop tonight. She’s in the shower. Still. Seriously, it’s been half an hour.”

The left side of Logan’s mouth quirked suggestively and his eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Oh yeah? Maybe this call isn’t a waste after all. Go take the laptop into the bathroom, wouldja? C’mon, please?”

“Do I look like a porn enabler to you? Forget it. You guys can Skype-fuck another time when it won’t make me have to bleach my eyeballs, thank you very much.”

“Party pooper.” Logan’s expression looked like that of a little boy who just got told he couldn’t have dessert, right down to the child-like pout.

“Pervert.” Mac reached for her beer and took a swig, completely unfazed. “So how are things on your tin can? Have you brought peace to the Middle East yet?”

“Oh, yeah, sure. We did that on day two. Now we’re just sticking around because the Navy rations are so delicious,” he responded dryly. A deep voice from behind his computer screen rumbled unintelligibly, and Logan looked up and nodded curtly. “OK, just gimme a sec. I’ll be right there.”

Mac shook her head in sympathy. _Man, Bond, you are gonna be so pissed that you took the extra long steam option tonight._

“I guess Veronica’s going to miss your call. Any messages to pass on that won’t make me puke?”

“Uh, actually, yeah. Look, could you guys do me a favour? Could you, uh, go check on Dick tomorrow? He sent me this weird email and I’m kind of concerned.” Logan’s face was dark and serious. Mac could tell that he was legitimately nervous about his friend.

“No worries, Logan, we’ll stop by after work. You do realize it’s Dick, though, right? It would be weird if the email _wasn’t_ weird.”

“I know, but this one was, you know, different. He sounds like he’s getting out of control, and, well, he was just in the hospital…”

“That was three months ago, but whatever, we’ll go. We don’t need your head focused here when it needs to be out there keeping you alive. You will definitely owe Veronica though…she’s not going to be thrilled.” She smiled like the cat that ate the canary. “And then she’ll owe me and I’m good with that.” Mac joked, trying to alleviate some of Logan’s worry, and she was rewarded with a smile and a laugh.

“Thanks, Mac. I’ve got to go now. Tell V I’ll try and call her again tomorrow night. I would suggest you not be there this time.” Logan waggled his eyebrows.

“Thanks for the warning. I’ll make sure I’m far away from here. Have a good one and be safe.”

The call disconnected just as Veronica appeared in the kitchen in a fluffy yellow robe, towel drying her hair. “I just missed Logan, didn’t I?” she asked, disappointed. 

“Yeah, sorry V. Um, in the spirit of full disclosure, I no longer need to imagine that picture you were talking about that one time. You know, the one with Logan wearing aviator glasses on his – “ She cut herself off with a snort of laughter she couldn’t contain.

Veronica’s mouth fell open. “WHAT?! Please tell me you’re joking!” Unfortunately, as her arms fell to her sides, the belt of her robe got knocked open, giving Mac a full view of what Logan had been hoping to see in the shower.

Mac shut her eyes tight and whimpered. “Jeez, V, can’t you guys manage to clothe yourselves like normal people? I know you aren’t on the same continent, but showing _me_ your junk is not going to make either of you feel better.” When Mac opened her eyes again, Veronica was clenching her robe closed with a vice grip, face blazing. “Interesting landscaping choice, by the way,” Mac sniggered, returning to the laptop.

“Shut. Up.” Veronica turned to the fridge and grabbed a beer. “So what did he say?” She popped the top and chugged a few gulps to cover her embarrassment.

“Be ready for the show tomorrow night when he calls, and make sure that I’m not the one to answer this time. He also wants us to go visit Neptune’s version of Spicoli tomorrow. Apparently he sent Logan a weirder than normal email and Logan wants us to channel Florence Nightingale and make sure he’s OK.”

Veronica’s reaction was decidedly unenthusiastic. “Oh goodie.” She grabbed another beer out of the fridge at a sign from Mac and moved to sit at the table. “I suppose if we must, we must. But I insist on being Nurse Ratchet instead.”

“How has Dick been, anyway? I haven’t heard anything really since Logan left.”

“Apparently he’s pretty much back to normal, if you can even use that word to describe Dick. Partying it up, as usual.”

“At least he’s entertaining at parties. You know, kind of like a carny freak. You know it’s wrong to watch him, but you just can’t help it when he starts to do tricks.” 

“Yeah, well, if it weren’t for Logan, that is one show I would choose never to see again. But what can I do? He was all Logan had for a long time, and he watched out for him when-“ Veronica stopped speaking, not wanting to articulate the horror of that time of his life. “ - anyway. I guess it’s Logan’s turn to act as mother hen, and since he can’t be here, I suppose I can deal with it every few weeks to make sure Dick hasn’t choked on his own vomit.” Veronica stared down at the beer bottle she was spinning in her hands, clearly not looking forward to playing sponsor.

Mac watched Veronica out of the corner of her eye. Even though her friend had only ever talked cryptically about why she hated Dick, Mac had eventually figured out what had happened in high school with the help of some of Wallace’s unintentional comments over the years. When she had raised the subject in college with Logan during one of their late night, post-rehab video game marathons, he hadn’t wanted to confirm her suspicions but he’d realized pretty quickly that it was something she needed to deal with as well. That confirmation had led to several months of hard work with her shrink to come to terms with what her ex-boyfriend had done. It had taken even longer and another discussion with Logan confirming that he and Dick had had an enlightening “conversation” about drugging girls drinks to be able to be in the same room with him. Mac couldn’t imagine how Veronica had managed to deal with it all. But if that meant Veronica carried a lingering hatred for her rapist’s brother who had put her in that situation to begin with, Mac could only try and help lighten her load.

“Look, I can help you out with that, if you want. I got kind of used to him over the last decade, against my better judgment. Occupational hazard of being Logan’s friend, as you said. Maybe if we share check in duties, it will reduce the chances of either of us catching something.”

Veronica smiled in gratitude, raising her beer bottle to clink it with Mac’s. “Who’s the best buddy a girl could have? You are!”

“Don’t you forget it! Now go away and let me finish souping up your computer so I can go home and sleep.”

 

The next day, the girls left the office and climbed into Mac’s convertible Fiat. Putting on her sunglasses, Veronica signed deeply and stared at the houses flying by. “I just don’t get it,” she said randomly, five minutes into the drive.

“The meaning of life? Astrophysics? Who killed Mr. Body in the library with the lead pipe?” Mac quipped as she slowed to take the turnoff into Dick’s beachfront neighbourhood.

“I solved the meaning of life one when I was eleven. The answer is 42,” Veronica retorted, ginning. “No, I meant how Dick can still live like he’s barely out of high school. Seriously, don’t people get that shit out of their system in college?”

Mac shrugged. “Well, if I had to guess, I’d say he uses the booze and drugs to self-medicate. ‘Money can’t buy happiness, but it can buy oblivion.’ He told me that once, and then walked away to score an eight-ball at a party. He seems to have gotten worse since the reunion, though. Between the tenth anniversary of Cassidy’s death and finding out what really happened on the boat with Susan Knight, I don’t think he’s handling things very well. You and I weren’t the only people bitch-slapped by the Neptune Curse. Dick may have done some really shitty things, but he’s also had to deal with more than his share of karmic retribution.”

Veronica spun her head around and looked at Mac, incredulous. “You can’t possibly be defending Dick’s behavior!”

“God no!” Mac exclaimed. She took a moment to park her car in Dick’s driveway before she continued. “I just meant that I can understand wanting to escape life for a bit when it shits on you, and he’s been shit on regularly pretty much his whole life. Having said that, the guy acts like a douche. An amusing douche on occasion, but a douche none the less. It’s a shame he’s so hot. Waste of a great ass.” Mac opened her door and got out of the car.

“Ew, Mac, please!” Veronica gagged as she followed Mac up to the door. 

“What? He doesn’t need to be Einstein for me to appreciate a fine man. All he needs to do is walk away, which is the best way to appreciate Dick anyway.” Mac rang the doorbell.

The girls waited for about a minute before trying again. Veronica looked around the side of the house and saw Dick’s Mustang in the driveway. “Well, he’s home. Idiot must be passed out. Good thing I still have my key from when Logan was staying here.” She fished out her master key ring and started to flip through the myriad of keys. It only took her a minute to find the right one and open the door.

The girls walked right into the house calling Dick’s name. It was a good thing that there was still some light left at this hour, because not one light was on and the air smelled closed in, like no windows had been opened for several days. A quick glance as they passed the kitchen revealed it to be empty. Mac walked toward the living room while Veronica headed toward the bedroom. 

“It’s empty in here, V, and the doors to the beach are locked,” Mac called out. “What about you?”

Mac suddenly heard Veronica exclaim “Oh shit!” and ran for the bedroom. When she got there she found Dick lying facedown on the floor across the doorway to his master bath. His feet were on the ceramic tile of the bathroom while the top half of his body was sprawled on the extra thick plush carpet of the bedroom. He was semi-conscious, but just barely. An empty bottle of tequila lay on the floor nearby and an old pan with brownie crumbs was on the dresser. Veronica was kneeling next to him trying to find his pulse. Mac was sure he was mumbling something and stepped closer to try and hear him.

“ – no please! No…more…dreams!....hurts…stop…forget…Cass…another…bottle… can’t sleep… more brownies…”

“Jesus, Veronica, I’m calling 911.” Her phone was in her hand and she’d dialed before she even finished the sentence.

Veronica smacked Dick’s cheek with her hand to attempt to keep him from losing consciousness and lowered her face closer to his. Her voice full of contempt, she spat at him, “You wake the fuck up, Dick Casablancas! I am not going to be the one to tell Logan that you went and killed yourself, so you listen to me, and you listen carefully. You stay with us, Dick. Do you hear me? You focus on my voice and you keep talking. I don’t care what you say. Rank your favorite sex positions for all I care, but you stay awake!”

Mac stayed on the phone with the responder while Veronica continued her tirade. Even in this state Dick must have been terrified of Veronica because he continued to mumble, but now it was “…Logan...” and “…sorry…” and “…c’mon Ronnie…”. A few minutes later, the paramedics arrived and shortly after they all found themselves back at Neptune Memorial Hospital.

The doors leading to the emergency room opened and the girls walked through a few minutes after Dick had arrived. Approaching the desk to speak to a nurse, Veronica was surprised to find that her name was on Dick’s emergency call list, so she was able to get information without resorting to her normal tactics. Unfortunately, the information available wasn’t more than that the doctor was with Dick and she’d be along shortly. With no other options, they sat in the small waiting room.

“Well, I’m not sure who had the forethought to set up this little arrangement, but I bet it wasn’t Dick.” Mac grinned at Veronica without humour.

“You would make millions on that bet if I was stupid enough to take it. Yeah, this has Logan written all over it. I’d kill him, but it’s proving to be useful, so I really can’t justify the homicide.”

Just then, a lady walked into the room wearing scrubs and a mask pulled down to her chin, freeing her mouth and nose. “Family of Dick Casablancas?”

Mac and Veronica got up and hurried over to the doctor, who led them to a private meeting room a few doors down the hall. When they had all sat down and introduced themselves, the doctor clasped her hands on the table and leaned on her elbows. “Well, Ms. Mars, Dick is in serious condition. We’re going to have to make some difficult decisions.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all those who thought the abrupt POV change was...well...abrupt, there is a method to my madness. I have always intended this to be a MaDi fic (more or less) and needed to bring her into the story. But mostly, I was inspired by some MacxLogan BROTP gifs on Tumblr and then this chapter wrote itself. Hopefully, you guys stay with me through this. It will mostly still be from Dick's POV.
> 
> Thanks, as always to Bryrosea who, amongst other great and insightful comments, pointed out a part in my original draft that referred to a Canadian only add campaign for Caramilk bars. Did anyone else know "How do they get the caramel in the Caramilk bars?" was a purely Canadian thing? Colour me flabbergasted!


	6. Chapter 6

“I’m sorry to lay this on you over Skype, Lo.” Veronica stared intently at her boyfriend’s face, trying hard to will away the physical distance between them. She lifted her hand to meet his on the screen, a habit they had picked up accidentally during his first deployment. She’d been missing him particularly badly and had picked a fight over something stupid. Seeing right through her in the way he always did, he talked her down (eventually), and they had instinctively reached out to each other despite the physical barrier. Surprisingly, even the simple act of putting their hands together on screen had reassured them both, and they continued to use it whenever they needed that extra bit of comfort. “I didn’t want to worry you, but Mac and I couldn’t afford the rehab fees and he’s in no shape to write a check.”

“Don’t be sorry, babe.” He shook his head. “I didn’t expect you guys to have to deal with all of this when I asked Mac to go check on him.” Logan pulled his hand away from the screen and slammed it down on the table in front of him causing his face to shake on the screen. “Damn it, Dick! Why are you such an idiot?”

“Yeah, well, no arguments here, but Logan, I actually think this goes beyond just Dick’s general idiocy. Mac and I were trying to figure out what he was rambling about when we found him, and she’s pretty sure this has to do with B-” Veronica cut herself off, having trouble getting the name out. She tried again, “Ca-” and failed. Pursing her lips in distaste and taking a deep breath, she tried one final time. “-his brother.”

“Of course it does. It always has, but what I don’t get is why _now_? I mean, it was bad before, but since his stupid cliff diving stunt things have spiraled. Why?” Logan’s voice was filled with desperation, and Veronica could see him rub his hands over his face, trying to wipe it away.

She’d love to be able to answer him, but she had absolutely no idea what went on in Dick Casablancas’ mind and she had no interest in trying to start now, so she stayed quiet. Her mild ambivalence certainly wouldn’t help Logan, and might only make things worse. _I mean, I don’t want the guy to die, but I don’t particularly want to know what makes him tick, either._

Logan uncovered his face and sat up straight and resolute. Veronica recognized his Navy training kicking in. Make the plan; execute the plan. “OK, so he’s willing to go to rehab, right? He’s not fighting you on this?”

Veronica detected a certain amount of surprise in these questions even considering she’d answered them twice already, and she rolled her eyes. She didn’t want to give him the details of exactly what had happened, so she hid behind a smirk, hoping to deflect.

 

> Dick is lying in his hospital bed looking grey and exhausted, face turned toward Veronica who is sitting on the windowsill, back braced on one side and feet braced on the other, determination written all over her face. Mac is curled up in the chair near his bed playing some game on her iPhone, ignoring both of them.
> 
> “I don’t give a flying fuck where you want to go, Dick. There is no way I’m letting you go home to start this shit all over again. You’re worrying Logan and it ends now.” She crosses her arms; her tone brooks no argument.
> 
> And yet, Dick argues. “Look Ronnie, don’t pretend you care what happens to me, OK? You and Mac got to save the day again or whatever, but this is where the superhero and her sidekick get to clock out. I’ll deal with it. Go away.” His voice is weak, but firm.
> 
> “Bang up job you’ve done so far,” Veronica shoots back derisively. They continue to bicker for another few minutes until Mac suddenly stands up, walks over to the bed and stares down at Dick. Nothing about her countenance indicates that she’s angry, but Dick looks up at her warily. Veronica gets the distinct impression that Mac is sad, but she’s at a loss as to why.
> 
> Mac’s voice is soft but thick when she starts talking, as though she’s forcing herself to discuss an unpleasant memory. Much to Veronica’s horror, she soon realizes that Mac _is_ reliving an unpleasant memory.
> 
> “Dick, doesn’t any of this feel familiar? Remember when it was you and me sitting in a hospital room just like this one and it was Logan in that bed? He didn’t listen to us either did he, and where did he end up? Right back here. Almost dead. Again.” She pauses a minute to gather herself, the memory clearly trying to break her.
> 
> Veronica notes that Mac expressly doesn’t look at up at her and is grateful, knowing how raw it would be for both of them. “ _Thank God_ he was smart enough to listen to Dr. Galway the last time, but do you remember those few days until Galway showed up? How we fought with Logan to just go to rehab already? I remember sitting up with you in the cafeteria for hours while you paced back and forth trying to figure out how to get through to him. Do you remember?”
> 
> Mac stops and waits for Dick to respond but all he can do is stare at her open-mouthed. She repeats her question, much more sharply than before, and the look in her eye becomes menacing, “Do. You. Remember?”
> 
> Swallowing, Dick leans back into his pillow and looks up at the ceiling. Quietly, he answers her. “Yeah.”
> 
> Her eyes soften immediately. She knows she has him. “Good. You’re going then?”
> 
> Dick takes a moment before answering again, as though resigning himself to reality. “Yes,” he says, distinctly.
> 
> Mac’s eyes never leave his face when she puts her hand on his shoulder and says to Veronica, the ghost of a smile in her voice, “V, can you go find Dr. Johnson? We need to start the paperwork.”

 

“I told you, Mac and I were very persuasive.”

Accepting this answer–again, she observed with mild exasperation–Logan nodded. “OK, then contact Ranch Creek Recovery. They–” he paused briefly, looking Veronica square in the eye despite the camera, then continued, “–are the best place around. Give them my name and explain the situation. They should be able to help. Tell them–” again, a pause. Veronica forced back a hysterical giggle at the passing thought of whether or not he could get a group discount at this point. “–to use the same payment information as last time.” He must have sensed her thoughts, though, because his face softened into a slightly embarrassed grin and he said, “I expect my loyalty points will go up another level. Maybe he’ll get a free room upgrade.”

Shaking her head at his tasteless humour but knowing that they could either laugh about everything or run screaming naked into the desert, she grinned along with him and said, “He can have _those_ points, but I want the ones that upgrade me to one of those cabanas on stilts in Bali, Lieutenant.”

“When this is all over, you’ve got yourself a deal, Ms. Mars.” Logan became suddenly serious. “Thank you, Veronica. I know…I know this isn’t easy for you.”

Her eyes shone with love for him. “And where in the deal did you promise me easy? I traded in easy a long time ago, buddy. I’m not going to pretend that I’m having fun, but Mac will help, and Wallace too, if I bake him enough cookies. Don’t worry, Logan. We’ll hold him together until you get back. But really, once he gets help, it’s all up to him. There’s nothing you could really do anyway, even if you were here.” 

Veronica could see Logan’s eyes flick above his screen for a brief second, and he nodded at whoever was there. “Look V, I wasn’t even supposed to get this call, and my favour just expired. I’ve gotta go. Tell Dick to hang in there, and that I expect him to do this properly or I’ll kick his ass. And V? I love you.” He put his hand to the screen again, where she covers it with her own.

“I love you too, Lo. Be safe.” After a few seconds, the screen flickered to black.

 

_Black._

Like the colour of the charcoal concoction that he had been forced to drink when they brought him into the ER.

Like the darkness behind his eyelids right up until the technicolour dreams kicked in when he finally fell asleep.

Like the last few decades of his life. 

Dick lay in the hospital bed for almost three weeks, feeling alternately like his body was vibrating and dying. His doctors wouldn’t let him leave for the rehab facility until he was safely detoxed, and it was a good thing too. His symptoms were so bad that he was sure he was more likely to die from alcohol deprivation than from the poisoning that had brought him in to the hospital in the first place. He had spent the first few days crippled by headaches, nausea and troubled breathing, begging the nurses to make it stop. That was when he wasn’t verbally abusing them; he was so angry but he didn’t know where to direct it. They took it all in stride, though, and did what they could to make him feel better. His favorite nurse was Grace, the night nurse, who occasionally sat with him holding his hand. She was a grand-motherly type who looked like she should have been bouncing grandbabies on her knee, not dealing with him blubbering like a fucking pussy. _Shit, good thing no one else is seeing me like this. Logan would never let me live this down_.

But one by one the symptoms lessened and disappeared. The result was that now he didn’t have any physical discomfort to focus on, and so his mind kept wandering to the dreams he’d had, or to the rehab place he was going to, or to the year he had spent watching Logan get clean. None of these subjects were doing anything to calm his nerves, and by the time the day arrived when Veronica finally picked him up to drive him to Ranch Creek, Dick was shaking not from withdrawal but from straight-up fear.

The orderly rolled him out the front door to Mac’s car, waiting by the curb; Veronica followed behind him carrying his stuff. He squinted at the glaring sun, throwing his hand up to shade his eyes, no longer used to all the sunlight. He knew he had to get up to get into the car, but his legs just didn’t want to cooperate.

“Move it, Dick.” Veronica prodded, gently despite the words, her voice breaking through his paralysis. He’d be damned if he showed her any weakness, so he forced himself to get slowly to his feet, partly to hide the shakiness, partly because he hadn’t really walked anywhere in a month, and climbed into the backseat of the car. Veronica dumped his bag in the trunk and climbed in the front next to Mac.

“Hey Dick.” Mac greeted cheerfully, looking at him via the rearview mirror. “You ready?”

“Cowabunga, dude.” Dick replied, voice flat.

“That’s the spirit!” Mac said with false pep, threw the car into drive and took off down the I-15, heading north.

 

A little over an hour later, Mac pulled up the circular drive to a large blue building with white trim. They had left the highway and found themselves on a deserted road, barely two cars wide, that eventually meandered its way up a hill to their destination nestled on the top. They could just see the swimming pool from where they were parked, and a beautiful pergola jutting off a cliff.

Veronica jumped out of the car and moved to unpack Dick’s luggage from the trunk.  Mac turned around in her seat and looked at Dick who was sitting with his head flung back, eyes closed. “You ready?” she said quietly so she wouldn’t surprise him if he had fallen asleep.

“No.”

“Well c’mon, then. It won’t get any easier. At least the view is spectacular and, look, the welcome wagon is here.”

Mac got out of the car, and Dick finally opened his eyes to see three strangers standing talking to Veronica. One of them, a guy in his mid-thirties wearing some kind of uniform, was taking his bags from Veronica and turning to bring them inside. The other man, clearly a doctor by the white coat he wore, was greeting Mac as she walked up. The third person was a woman in her mid-fifties, face somber but friendly, the proper amount of sympathy and welcome.

“Ra ra, the gang’s all here.” Dick muttered under his breath and climbed out of the car to his temporary home away from home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to BryroseA, without whom you would not get anything resembling coherence. I have been fortunate because I've never had to deal with anyone recovering from an addiction. Please be patient with some of the details.


	7. Chapter 7

The digital clock on Dick’s nightstand read 6:58. The morning light snuck in around both sides of the shade pulled down over the window and filtered through the beige drapes that were more decorative than useful. Had the shade been open, the view from his bedroom would have been a spectacular sprawl of desert hilltops and blue, cloudless skies. Well, not _his_ bedroom, but the room he’d been given in this godforsaken place. There was just enough light in the room to see that it was richly decorated, if a little generic. Beige walls to match the drapes and a dark, ornate chest of drawers. A pretty comfortable double bed with decent sheets and a red blanket. There was a vanity and sink next to the closet, and a shared but fancy bathroom on his floor, with slate tiles and granite counters. A photograph of a sailboat in a sunset was the only decoration. Pretty fancy digs, if one wasn’t used to private islands and valet service.

Dick was lying in bed staring at the white ceiling, unwilling to start his day even two minutes early. Much to his disappointment, time stops for no man and soon enough the clock changed to 7:00. Right on cue, there was his wakeup call, a light knock on his door. “Rise and shine, Richard!” he heard Sam call.

“Yeah, I’m up.” It was the same response he’d given for the last thirteen days. Thirteen. Long. Days. And, as he’d done every one of those thirteen days, he took a deep breath, recited the number of days remaining ( _Fifteen more days, dude._ ), and climbed out of bed. He took the same seven steps to his sink, grabbed his toiletries bag and walked down the same short hall to take his four-minute shower. Then he brushed his teeth and flossed, but he didn’t use any mouthwash.

They weren’t allowed mouthwash here at Ranch Creek Recovery.

After he dressed in the same type of clothes he’d worn all the previous days - non-descript loose shorts and a clean white T-shirt - he went to the communal kitchen and ate the same breakfast amidst the others who were staying at the facility. He nodded to each one who greeted him as they entered – “Hey Richard!” and “Morning Richard!” He had spent the first two days correcting everyone who called him by his full name, but after he realized he wasn’t getting anywhere, he just ignored it.

Dick had his daily routine set to a marching song in his head, and had taken to mumbling made up versions of “I don’t know but I been told” to himself as he went from one scheduled activity to another. It was as mundane to execute day after day as it was to chant about, and he was quickly losing patience with the whole damn thing. Add the exhaustion factor to the mix—the dreams had still not stopped—and normally happy-go-lucky Dick was decidedly less than peppy.

When he was done washing and storing his dishes (no maid service here; it wasn’t a hotel, after all), he went off to his individualized session with his councilor. Originally Dick had assumed that when he met with his private shrink, he’d be lying on a leather couch with some old guy in a corduroy blazer and elbow patches sitting over him, yellow pad in hand, asking him about his relationship with his mother. Reality, he learned, was very different. Dr. Blake was in his early thirties and came to work in khakis and a polo shirt. Dick sat in a chair in front of the doctor’s desk and all that they talked about were the different ways that Dick was failing at life. Dr. Blake wanted him to “look for the triggers” for why he partied, but after almost two weeks, all Dick could come up with was because he was rich and hot and why the fuck shouldn’t he? Dr. Blake wasn’t impressed by that answer. Dick wasn’t impressed by Dr. Blake.

At least those meetings were better than the stupid group sessions. _That_ was where they tried to dig deep into each guest’s past. “Guests,” that’s what the center called the nine people sitting in a circle like some preschool class playing a fucked up version of Duck-Duck-Goose.

 _Duck_ \- “And, like, my friend Jenny just, like, wanted me to have one more hit with her, you know, like, for old times sake,” began Emma, the small blond coed.

“Guests”, as though they were on vacation and staying in a hotel. The place might have a pool and a view, but he was certain that this was the worst fucking vacation he’d ever taken. And there was no way that he was going to talk about any of his family with a group of strangers, confidentiality agreement or not. The last thing he needed was for his personal shit to be splayed across the internet for the world to read.

 _Duck_ – “It’s just so hard to get out of bed in the morning. I mean, who wants to face some crappy waiter job day in and day out. I’m meant for better things, I’m supposed to be famous, you know, so why bother?” lamented Rob, the struggling wannabe. 

Dick could see the disappointment in his group leader’s eyes every time he reminisced about a trip to TJ or a jacuzzi encounter with a hot girl but that was too damn bad. He knew he had agreed to come here, and yes, he realized that he’d probably been hitting the scene a little too hard lately and he needed to dial it back, but that was it. Hadn’t he admitted as much when they’d discussed the first of the twelve steps? _“_ _We admit we are powerless over alcohol—that our lives have become unmanageable._ ” He so did not need the rest of this _feelings_ garbage.

 _Goose_ \- It was on day twenty-four ( _Four more days!_ ) when Melanie had what they called “a breakthrough”. She had been at the center for a little over a week, but had not said much of anything. Dick – (“You should really use Rick or Richard and stop giving the world a preconceived idea of who you are.”) – had just finished a story about the time he had dropped E with this group of artists he’d met at the Burning Man Festival. It was a great story, one of his favourite memories, not to mention one of the hottest nights he’d ever had in his life. Melanie had sat in silence through it all, staring towards him but not directly at him; more over his left shoulder. When he was done - without the laughs he’d been trying for, not that he was really surprised - Melanie had finally started talking. Before she was done, Dick wished that he had chosen a different story. He didn’t want to deal with this kind of shit.

“Funny, my memories of the Burning Man Festival are completely different,” she began, still staring off into the middle distance. “I went with some girlfriends a few years ago. We wanted to meet other artists – we were art majors at Berkeley – and camp and relax. It was supposed to be fun. None of us were users, but we weren’t saints either. We were college students, so, you know, beer was our friend. Nothing out of the ordinary though.” She focused back in on the group and sat forward face pleading with them to believe her. “I don’t want to make excuses or anything. Or, like, hide the truth or whatever. Really, we didn’t party that much. Just the beer.”

The other guests nodded their understanding. The leader motioned for her to continue, and quietly interjected that no one present was judging her. She nodded in return and took a fortifying breath before continuing.

“Anyway, I’d gone off to the bathrooms and on my way back I ran into this group of guys we’d been flirting with all week. There was this one guy, Jason, and we’d hit it off. He offered me one of the glasses of beer he’d been holding and the group of them came back to our campsite with beer for all of us. About a half an hour later, my friends and I were unconscious and the guys had their “I got lucky at Burning Man” story for the year.” She shrugged. “I…haven’t been dealing with it too well.”

The group spent the next twenty minutes discussing Melanie’s story but Dick didn’t contribute anything or look at anyone. Despite Dick’s admittedly questionable attitude toward women, he at least tried to have the decency to move on when the girl was not interested. There were, after all, plenty of others who were. And anyway, between the rapes during his first year at Hearst and some of the stories he’d heard Veronica tell Logan about her cases, he had grown up enough to know right from wrong. There were just some lines that you did not cross. Dick felt bad for the girl, but moreso, something about Melanie’s story left Dick unsettled for days afterward. He couldn’t figure out why, but decided that it was because he had been there too long already and just needed to get the hell out already.

The last four days of his treatment passed exactly as did the previous twenty-four. _I don’t know but I been told, this rehab shit is getting old._ Because seriously, how much more could they tell him? He’d already listened to endless hours of psychobabble, and understood that yes, he’d gone too far these last few months with the drugs. He already knew that after the cliff accident. And yes, OK, maybe he’d been wearing himself out the last few months with too many parties and business meetings and early morning surfing. He could see now how being exhausted led to not-great decisions. But he’d listened enough too to take in some good advice on how to live a little healthier. He had to take better care of himself, that was it. Sleep more, eat his veggies, do some of that yoga shit to relax. Never drink alone. Get rid of the bottles of hard stuff at home. Stop partying with Tristan, the cokehead. Use a white noise machine to calm the dreams. He’d do all of that and things would return to normal.

During his final personal session, Dr. Blake looked at him with concern and gave him a speech about the statistics of addicts who relapse, and how much better it was to find a support group in his area to help him. Dick nodded when necessary, shook hands with the man, took the proffered pamphlets and then left to wait for Veronica outside the front door. He just caught the doctor shaking his head after him as he left the office. He was well aware that the center would have preferred to keep him for an extended stay, but there was no way that was going to happen. He’d stayed the minimum twenty-eight days like he promised Logan he would, but that was it. _Whatever, man. I did my time. I learned my lessons. Thanks for the hiking._

Veronica and Wallace pulled up shortly after he got outside. Dick was sure that Wallace only came so that Veronica didn’t have to be alone with him for the whole ride home, but that was fine with him. He didn’t want to have to deal with her inquisition and private threats anyway. He climbed in the back seat with a brief “Hey” and hunkered down for the scenic drive home. He couldn’t wait to see the ocean again. That was one of the hardest parts of the month for him, being away from the ocean when he was being forced to focus so much on his life. For him, his surfboard on the ocean at sunrise was the only shrink’s office he’d ever needed.

“So, how did it go, Dick?” Veronica asked from the passenger seat, attempting a neutral but concerned tone. Dick wasn’t fooled, though. He knew that their whole conversation was being recorded in Veronica’s crazy-ass PI brain for future playback to Logan.

Trying for the same neutral tone but failing, Dick replied evasively, “Bitchin’. The food was shit but the hiking was good. I met with the good doctors and did my homework like a good boy, and I’m fine. You can tell your boyfriend that I’m good.” Some resentment at having to survive the last month leaked into the tail end of his answer and did not go unnoticed by Veronica. But it was Wallace who spoke in her place, glancing at Dick in the rear view mirror.

“Hey, dude, go easy. We’re all just trying to help here, man. No harm, no foul.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever man. Tell Logan to call me so I can tell him myself that I’m fine.” With that, Dick turned his head and stared out the window, signaling an end to the conversation. Veronica tightened her mouth as though to hold back whatever it was she would like to have said, and turned back to the road. They drove back in total silence until they got to Dick’s, and even then, he got out of the car with a simple “Thanks, guys” and escaped inside as fast as he could.

Home sweet home.

Throwing his bag on the floor next to the door, Dick plugged in his cell phone, turned it on and waited while all the texts and messages from the last two months came pinging through. Damn Veronica for refusing to bring him his phone. He checked the ones from the last twenty-four hours and deleted the rest. There was a beach party happening about a mile away, and his friend Chuck was promising a load of lovely ladies. Dick decided that he needed to celebrate his homecoming, not to mention make up for almost two months without any action, so he grabbed his keys and headed out his back door. He had new “life tools” now. He could handle a party. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a transitional chapter to set up the next dream, but my wonderful beta BryroseA (you're the best, seriously!) assures me that it has enough structural development to post. I hope you all enjoy it.


	8. Chapter 8

Mac had volunteered to take the first week of check-ins with Dick, since Veronica and Wallace had been the ones to go and pick him up. The three of them had spent a long evening a few days before coming up with the game plan for the next couple of weeks. There had even been a brief appearance by iLogan (“The irony of you giving me that nickname is not lost on me, _Mac_.”), who Skyped in long enough to very gratefully and sincerely thank them all for helping while he wasn’t able to.

“Seriously guys. I don’t know what would have happened if you weren’t doing this. Thank you.” Logan’s long face looked worried and tired, his eyes brimming with emotion. “I know that he’s not the easiest person to like,” he glanced toward Veronica and then away, “and I know what this is costing you in the way of patience. I’ll be home by the end of the month though, and I have some time off. I can take over from there.”

“Hey, mister! Don’t you dare forget your promise about Bali hotels on stilts. I’m claiming some of that vacation time for me!” Veronica reminded him, finger wagging.

“Yes, dear. I haven’t forgotten,” Logan smirked.

Mac broke in to return the conversation to the topic at hand. “Look Logan, we’ve got everything under control here. Stop the emo guilt trip you’re giving yourself. He’s your family, you’re V’s family, and she’s our family. When one of us goes down, the rest of us show up. It’s just the way it is,” she shrugged and the tone of her voice made it clear that the point was not up for discussion.

“Yeah, bro. The only thing you need to worry about is coming home safe and sound to pick up your own shifts. Until then, we got your back, man!” Wallace added.

That’s how Mac found herself standing on Dick’s stoop at 9:00 am on Sunday morning, ringing his doorbell for the third time. _Dammit Dick! If you did something stupid again…_ Giving up on anyone actually opening the door, she walked around the side of the house to the back where the deck met the beach. She scanned the water as she walked toward the stairs and then stopped, hands on her hips, exhaling in relief. The idiot was coming up the beach, dragging his surfboard. She waited for him to get within earshot, ready to rip into him for scaring her like that.

 

Dick lifted his eyes and saw Mac standing in front of his deck, irritation clear on her face. Shaking his head in disbelief, he smirked and greeted her with fake politeness. “Hey Mac, fancy meeting you here. In my backyard. At 9:00 in the morning. You know, normally chicks at my place this early in the morning look a little more…satisfied. What’s got your panties in a twist?”

“You didn’t answer your damn door,” Mac replied sharply, eyes narrowing.

Dick set down his surfboard in the rack next to his deck and walked over to the shower to wash off the sand. He looked back over his shoulder and smirked, “I didn’t realize I needed to check in with my parole officer this morning, so I went surfing. Was I supposed to ask permission before I left my own house, mommy?” He finished rinsing himself off and shut the water, grabbing a towel off the back of a deck chair and angrily wiping at his face. “You know, I did everything you people asked. I went to the damn place, listened to their bullshit for a fucking month and haven’t even been home twenty-four fucking hours before you show up here and give me a hard time. For what? Surfing? You know, I went to a damn beach party last night and even behaved like a good boy. I had one beer. One. Not one hundred. One. Shit, I even refused the blunt that got passed around. And then I came right home and was in bed by midnight. Now I’m standing here getting shit for doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing. What the fuck do you want from me?”

Throughout Dick’s tirade Mac’s eyes got wider and wider. By the end, she even looked slightly embarrassed. Dick allowed a triumphant little grin to flit over his face – she didn’t need to know that he hadn’t gone to bed alone – and brushed past her up the stairs. Before he went inside, he heard Mac inhale before speaking. “We want you to stay alive, Dick,” she said, barely audible over the waves. “I’m sorry for overreacting.”

Guilt welled up and formed a knot in his chest, just behind his sternum. He paused, hand on his patio door and then turned around. In typical Dick fashion, the anger was gone and his good-natured persona was back. “Whatever, dude. Forget it. You want a coffee?”

“No thanks, I’ve got to get to the office. No rest for the wicked.” She started back towards the front of the house, but threw out a, “See you tomorrow” over her shoulder.

“You really don’t have to, you know,” he called after her, exasperated.

Her voice drifted from around the side of the house, matter of fact, not accusatory. “Yes I do. You shouldn’t have had the beer.”

Shaking his head in resignation, Dick went inside.

 

His first week home went pretty smoothly, all things considered. After the argument on the first day, Dick made sure he was home every morning at about the time he knew Mac would show up and had coffee waiting for her. If Veronica and her minions were going to force themselves into his space, he might as well make the best of it. Besides, it was kind of nice having people care for a change. He had even toned down the partying. It hadn’t stopped altogether – the Dickmeister had a reputation to uphold after all – but he tried to keep it to a reasonable level. A few beers instead of a bottle of tequila, a joint instead of an eight-ball, a chick every few days instead of every night and twice on Sundays.

By and large, the dreams had stopped. Maybe it was the lack of large quantities of drugs and alcohol constantly swimming in his system, he didn’t know, but he was no longer quite so reluctant to go to bed at night.   Dick quietly thanked the Great Spaghetti Monster that he had been getting his beauty sleep on the first day that Veronica showed up instead of Mac. It was hard enough dealing with Taser Girl when all his cylinders were firing, never mind when he was exhausted. He simply added cream and sugar to the black coffee he’d prepared for Mac, handed Veronica the travel mug and waved her off with a, “See you tomorrow!”

Three days later it all went to shit.

The law firm that counted Dick amongst its clientele had invited him to a reception it was holding in honour of some new partner. Never one to refuse a party invitation, Dick had gone and brought home a hot little paralegal instead of a swag bag. Suzie – Sandy? – had just located her stiletto under the couch and let herself out when Dick collapsed, spent, into his bed. The door was barely closed before he was asleep.

> The lanterns frame the pool area, casting a warm orange glow over the crowd. The night seems warm considering it’s December – not that Dick can feel anything when he’s in these stupid dream worlds – but everyone around him is in spaghetti straps and T-shirts.
> 
> _Son of a bitch_.
> 
> Dick sinks, desolate, onto a stool at the bar, bracing himself upright with his hands on his knees. These damn dreams are supposed to be done. Finished. Kaput. Why why why is he being put through this again? He has been good. Well…mostly. He has been _better_ , at least.
> 
> “Yeah, well, _better_ ain’t gonna cut it, Dick.”
> 
> Dick cringes, hearing that voice. _Could it get any worse? Veronica Mars?_ He keeps his eyes closed, hoping against hope that if he ignores her long enough someone else will appear in her place. Anyone. His mom would be a better option at this point.
> 
> “Quit hiding, I’m not going away. Should I conjure up my Taser to prove to you that you’re stuck with me?” He can hear her approach from behind him. At mention of her Taser, his eyes spring open and he covers his crotch reflexively. Veronica smirks at his reaction and says with faux excitement, “That’s better. Now, shall we walk around and enjoy this wonderful night that defined my adolescence?”
> 
> “Always with the drama, huh, Ronnie? You never could just kick back and relax at a party, could you?” Dick stands up and starts to make his way through the crowd, following her. He has a vague sense of déjà vu as he notices her white mini-dress trimmed with a black belt, but he’s pretty sure Veronica has never worn something so tight and revealing in his presence before. And were her boobs really that big when he’d seen her this morning? _The hell?_ The white though…that is ringing a bell somewhere.
> 
> They break through the crowd when they reach the side of the pool. To his surprise, Veronica keeps walking right out over the water towards a group of guys all standing around a lounge chair. Tentatively, he takes a step out over the water. When he doesn’t go tumbling into the pool, he continues, so impressed by himself that he struts just a bit. “Yeah, baby! Just like Jesus, man! Awesome!” The cockiness continues until he reaches the crowd, and then it drains away with the colour on his face. Now he knows where he’s seen her in a white dress before, albeit a more conservative, virginal version.
> 
> A high-school aged Logan is standing next to a lounger shaking salt onto the chest of a semi-conscious, sixteen-year-old Veronica Mars. Dick sees his younger self on the other side of the chair, pouring a shot of tequila for Enbom, who is clearly next in line. Next to him, adult Veronica seems to have changed clothes. Her previously skimpy tight dress has morphed into a ruffle necked, loose fitting blouse and ankle length skirt that wouldn’t look amiss on a Quaker woman. Thankfully, she remains unarmed. Dick had been sure that, spirit guide or no, she would taze his ass when he saw her in that deck chair and he’s not sure why he’s getting a reprieve. She turns toward him, eyebrows raised.
> 
> “So, Dick, do you want to start, or should I?”
> 
> Dick raises a hand in supplication. “Ronnie, I –”
> 
> Veronica cuts him off, clapping excitedly. “Oh goodie! I get to go!” She grabs his hand and drags him closer to her younger self, stepping around Logan in order to get as close as possible. “OK, let’s start with an easy one. Do you remember this night?” Not even letting him answer, she barrels on, voice cold and hard. “Of course you do, you’re the one dreaming it. Shelley’s party, junior year. Five points to Slytherin. Boy, are you guys drunk. I mean, if we could smell anything, this place would just reek of alcohol. Funny thing, though,” she continues, beginning to sing, “one of these things is not like the others. One of these things just doesn’t belong.” Veronica drops his hand and points around the crowd. “C’mon, Dick, can you figure out which one it is?”
> 
> Dick steps back as soon as Veronica lets him go, flustered and embarrassed to be watching this scene with her. He stands there, mute, afraid of answering and afraid of not answering. Instinctively, his arms cross to shield himself as much as to get his hands to stop shaking. There is no way that Veronica is going to be gentle about guiding him through the lessons he’s supposed to learn tonight, especially when they hear Dick 1.0 asking who’s up next for a turn at the salt lick.
> 
> “I know you aren’t all that quick, but really, no answer at all?” Veronica spits out. Her ruffles have turned into black skinny jeans, combat boots, layered tanks and a leather jacket; Veronica’s hell-bitch costume of choice. Suddenly, her arm shoots up into the air like an overeager student. “I know! I know! It’s me! _I’m_ the one who isn’t the same.” She lowers her arm and puts her hands on her hips, playing the role of strict teacher this time. “See, I know something you don’t know about what happened at this party, Dick. I’m not actually drunk. Nope,” she pops her ‘p,’ then leans in towards him and whispers, “I’m drugged.” Turning back towards herself, she casually asks over her shoulder, “Guess by whom? C’mon, you should be able to figure _this_ one out.”
> 
> Dick straightens at this remark. He knows what she’s implying, but that’s bullshit. He never drugged Veronica Mars. Not even he is that stupid. “I never drugged anyone, Ronnie. That’s whack!” He takes another few steps backwards to get away from what he is seeing.
> 
> “You can’t fall into the pool to put out the flames in your pants, so you might want to watch what you say.”
> 
> “Uh, excuse me! I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, you crazy bitch!” _How dare she accuse me of this_? Thoughts of Melanie, tucked into her chair during group session, float through his head, and he takes a deep breath to calm down.
> 
> “Look, I–” Dick wipes his hands over his face to clear his thoughts. “–this–” He turns his focus to the group, allowing himself to fully experience the shame. No pain, no gain, right? That’s what they told him at rehab. Fine. _Let’s get the pain over with._ “I suck, OK? Is that what you want to hear? Not my brightest moment. I get it. I’m sorry. Maybe you can take some of that forgiveness you gave to Logan and toss a bit my way?” He looks at Butch-Boots Veronica hopefully. “Seriously, Ronnie, I don’t know who told you I drugged you, but it wasn’t me.”
> 
> Veronica turns and steps in front of Dick, arms crossed and hip cocked. Dick knows he’s in trouble when she does her head tilt thing. “So what you’re saying is that Luke didn’t supply you two doses of GHB the night of Shelley’s party, and you didn’t put one of them into Madison’s drink. Huh, Dick? Didja _maybe_ forget to tell your girlfriend that you were gonna roofie her soda?” 
> 
> “Huh?”
> 
> The scene abruptly changes. Dick and his own personal Ghost of Fuck Ups Past watch as the 09er guys do shot after shot after shot near the outdoor bar. High-school Dick is clearly drunk off his ass, barely able to stand. He’s hanging off Madison, who keeps shrugging him off and scowling. She moves away from the guys as Shelley signals her over to talk. Young Dick looks after her, forlorn and a little sad, and then his face lights up as though he has a great idea. He orders a soda from the bar, slurring and swaying, and drops in a dose of the drugs from his pocket.
> 
> _Holy. Shit_. “I spiked her drink. I was so fucking drunk that I spiked her drink and then forgot.” Dick mumbles, incredulous.
> 
> “Ding ding ding! He gets one right for once! Now where are my Scooby Snacks?” Veronica looks around as though expecting them to appear at her feet.
> 
> Dick whirls around, confused. “But how did _you_ get it?” Just as he finishes asking his question, the crowd goes silent and he turns back to see a Young Veronica walk by and Madison pass her the drink.
> 
> “Dammit, Dick, don’t you understand what your little fun and games cost me?” 
> 
> “Yes! I do, OK?! I get that this–” Dick waves toward the lounger “–is majorly uncool. I’m sorry, alright? Fuck, I was drunk! I’m sorry! I don’t do shit like this anymore. God, Ronnie, it was high school.”
> 
> “You’re sorry?!” Veronica screeches. “Sorry. Are you sorry for this too?”
> 
> There’s a flash of light, and when the spots clear from his vision, Dick sees that they are now in a bedroom where he, Sean, and Beaver survey an unconscious Veronica on the bed. He can hear his younger self spouting off nonsense.
> 
> “She’s actually kinda hot. When she’s quiet. Perfectly cute piece of ass. Ready and willing.”
> 
> Dick closes his eyes and swallows the bile rising up in his throat. He doesn’t even open his eyes to look at Veronica when he murmurs another apology. _God, I was an asshole_. When he tunes back in, he just catches himself calling back to Beaver, “Make sure you suit up.”
> 
> Next to him, he can hear Veronica make a low growl in the back of her throat. He refuses to open his eyes; he just can’t bring himself to face her, even though she’s just a figment of his imagination. “I know saying sorry will make things worse, so what can I do? At least we left you there with Cassidy, though, right? He might have been fucked up, but everyone knows he couldn’t…”
> 
> “Right, Dick. Everyone knows he couldn’t.” Dick can’t understand the hollowness he hears in Veronica’s voice, but when he finally opens his eyes to ask her, he finds himself back in his bed, lying in the dark.

Dick felt like he had just finished a marathon. He was covered in sweat and out of breath. That was, without question, the worst dream he’d had yet. He hadn’t consciously remembered much about that night–he’d clearly been royally fucked up at the time–but he really hadn’t had any reason to either. It was just another party in a long string of parties.

The dream clarified some of Logan’s more cryptic remarks over the years about why Ronnie hated him. He’d been sure that her attitude towards him had been just general bitchiness, but after seeing what he just saw, he could understand why she was mad. Still, she’d forgiven Logan, and _he’d_ been the mastermind of the whole thing, not Dick. So why would she still be so pissed off?

The digital clock read 3:09, but Dick knew that he wasn’t going to fall asleep again anytime soon so he got up, threw on some shorts and a tank top, and went for a long run down the beach to clear his head. When he got back, he jumped into the shower, turned it up as hot as he could, and spent the next twenty minutes trying to scrub away the horrible, crawling feeling under his skin. He was upset by what he’d done to someone he now mostly thought of as a friend - he wasn’t, like, _Mercer_ after all - but he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he was still missing something. He crawled back into bed still thinking about it as the sky began to lighten. Oddly, Melanie’s words floated back through his mind.

_…the guys had their “I got lucky at Burning Man” story for the year._

Suddenly, he could hear Cassidy’s voice shouting at him from his memory. The guys had been over on the day that his brother had dumped Mac in the quad and they were giving him a hard time about not popping his cherry with her. Finally, Cassidy had snapped and screamed at them, “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, OK? I’m no different from any of you. Maybe I’m just a gentleman when I get lucky with a chick at a party and don’t fuck and tell. You ever think of that?” Dick had thought for sure that Cassidy had been bluffing and laughed it off. But now…

_Oh God._

Dick spun himself over the edge of the bed and threw up all over his rug. All at once, the chatter that he had blocked out after Cassidy died came into focus. Logan’s refusal to go to Cassidy’s funeral. Dick had always assumed that when Logan gave the, “You don’t know what he did to Veronica” excuse, he was talking about what had happened on the roof, or maybe with the plane. It was clear now that it was more than that. He also remembered hearing that Ronnie had VD around that time and so had Woody Goodman. He’d laughed and made some inappropriate joke to Rams. Wallace had been walking by and had almost taken his head off. Now he knew why.

He dry-heaved again, and then one more time when he realized that she was coming to his house in four hours to make sure he was doing OK. All of these people were helping him, even though…

_It’s my fault. I’m a useless, brainless fuck-up who doesn’t deserve anything I have. No way can I deal with this without a drink. Fuck all twelve of those steps._

All Dick knew in that minute was that he needed it to stop. He crawled out of bed, staggered to the bathroom and dug around in his drawer with the false bottom for the leftover oxy he had. Only three pills, but it was enough for now; he’d get more later. He went into the den and opened the hidden compartment in the globe to rescue his emergency bottle of bourbon. With a gusto he hadn’t felt in months, he proceeded to get well and truly shitfaced.

 

Veronica had to use her key to get into Dick’s a few hours later when he didn’t answer the door. She found him sitting on the couch staring at nothing, an empty bottle at his feet. Furious, she stomped over and grabbed the bottle off the floor, shaking it in his face. “You fucking asshole,” she erupted.

Only Dick’s eyes moved as he focused on Veronica’s face and his voice was completely flat. “I am. My brother was too. We Casablancases are all undeniable assholes.” His eyes lost focus again, staring off over her right shoulder.

At the mention of his brother, Veronica straightened and took a small step back, crossing her arms protectively. Her spidey-sense was going off. This wasn’t just some random bender Dick was on; this drunkenness had purpose. Calmer, she asked, “What’s going on, Dick? What happened?”

It took a moment before he answered; she wasn’t sure if he heard her. In the end, she wished that he hadn’t.

“Cassidy. He…” Dick’s eyes were completely blank and staring into the middle distance.

Veronica looked away. “He what?” Her voice was steel.

“He…raped you.” Dick heaved, almost unable to get out the words. When he got himself under control again, barely, he forced himself to face Veronica. Tears ran freely and his face was contorted with shame and humiliation. “Step 5: Admit our mistakes, right? Cassidy raped you and I –” his voice broke “– I told him to.” And then he broke down and sobbed like a child, curled in around himself, arms wrapped around his head. 

Veronica stood frozen, staring at Dick’s shuddering body as though outside of herself. He was crying so hard that she was surprised he wasn’t breaking apart. His wails were almost certainly loud too, but she could barely hear them through the white noise in her head.

She rebounded into her body abruptly at the sound of the bottle shattering against the wall. She could only now make out his chant of “I’m sorry” underneath the blubbering, but she didn’t want to hear it, couldn’t bear it. Without one word of response, Veronica spun around and flew out of the house.

Dick continued rocking and chanting as he slammed headlong into rock bottom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are excellent reasons to have your stories beta'ed. One such reason is so that your beta can be sure to tell you when your logic isn't logical. I'm forever grateful for BryroseA.


	9. Chapter 9

<<Everything OK Bond? Expected you

at the office already>>

<<Beach. Gimme an hour>>

 

Even after somewhere around fifteen years, Mac still wasn’t always one hundred percent sure when to push Veronica and when to leave her alone but it didn’t take much for a PI—or even the tech guru of a PI—to figure out that Veronica escaping to the beach after a run-in with Dick likely required an intervention. Mac, Wallace and Veronica had been under quite a bit of strain the last few weeks dealing with Dick, but given Veronica’s history with him, she was having the hardest time – even if she would never admit it. And, if the need to escape had overtaken Veronica, an instinct that she had fought hard to curb, Mac suspected the whole situation had just gotten worse. So she had sent a quick text to Wallace to meet them at the beach and jumped in her car. Thankfully, he didn’t have class until later that afternoon, and, pulling up, she saw that his car was already in the lot.

Parking her own car next to Wallace’s, Mac removed her flip-flops and made her way as fast as she could through the sand without running. The beach curved slightly around a dune, and Mac peeked around to see Wallace with his arms around Veronica, rocking her gently. Veronica had her knees clutched to her chest, tears streaking her face. _Shit! Dick can’t be dead or they wouldn’t be here. What the hell happened? Logan_ — _!_ Suddenly panicked, Mac lunged for her friends and landed ungracefully in front of them.

“Oh God, V, is it Logan?”

Veronica clambered backwards as though Mac was infected with Zombie Virus. Her eyes were wild and far-away, no recognition of Mac anywhere in her gaze. “Don’t-!”

At Veronica’s reaction to her, Mac froze. Very softly but firmly, she said, “Veronica? Veronica! It’s only me. It’s Mac. What happened?”

It took a moment for Mac’s voice to register but, when it did, Veronica blinked and suddenly came to herself. She pulled away slightly from Wallace, reached out to Mac and grabbed her hand. In a raspy voice, thick from crying, she said, “Logan’s fine. I’m fine.” She wiped frantically at her cheeks, and seeing the disbelieving looks cross both Wallace and Mac’s faces, she tried to laugh and shrug it off. “Seriously, guys, I’m OK. I’m sorry I scared everyone. PMS is a bitch.”

Wallace wasn’t buying what she was selling. “Girl, don’t even. Mac is not an idiot. She knows—”

Veronica lifted her hand, palm to his face. “Stop. I am not talking about this.” She turned towards Mac. “Look, you know how I feel about Dick, and…I’m sure you’ve even figured out why, somehow.” Her eyes flicked away from Mac’s, looking toward the ocean so she didn’t have to face her friend. Cassidy had traumatized both girls, and Veronica had no intention of making things worse for Mac by discussing it with her after all these years. “Dick…I just can’t go back there right now. I’m sorry.”

Mac’s face hardened. “What did he do?”

“Nothing to me.” Veronica took a deep breath. “But he can’t be alone, and Logan would want us to…and I can’t. And…I’d like Wallace to stay here. Can you-?” She finally turned back toward Mac, eyes silently pleading for her to understand without having to explain.

Mac stared at her a long moment then looked over to Wallace, who nodded his acceptance of the plan.

“Bond, I get what you’re doing here, and I’ll go. But you don’t need to protect me. You can talk to me. I’ll even get the ice cream and nail polish out, if we need to go all girly-style. Or rent a fancy leather couch so we can take turns being Freud and patient.” She quirked her mouth in a half-grin to let Veronica know she wasn’t angry.

Veronica visibly relaxed and moved to hug her best girlfriend. “Thanks, Mac. It’s just – “

Mac returned the hug. “I get it, V. No worries, but I’m picking up some Chunky Monkey and soy chocolate chip for later anyway.” She got up and waved, heading back to her car.

 

Fifteen minutes later, Mac pulled up to Dick’s house and turned off the engine. She didn’t know what she would find inside, hadn’t wanted to ask Veronica, but now that she was there, she wasn’t sure quite what to do. Ring the bell? Use the key they’d made without telling him for precisely this reason? She got out of the car and approached the door, trying to get a look through the windows as she passed to see if she could locate him. A leg seemed to peak over the arm of the couch, unmoving, and she picked up her pace. The key wasn’t necessary, though. _Hmmm…Veronica was so upset she ran out and left the door half-open. What the hell happened this morning?_

The house smelled like a sour cocktail of vomit, sweat and tequila. Mac could see the shattered bottle on the floor and the dent in the wall above it indicating the point of contact. _Was Dick getting violent now?_ But Mac’s instincts told her no, that it was likely _Veronica_ who had impersonated Sandy Koufax. Still, Mac approached Dick cautiously. 

“Is sh-she OK?” Mac heard Dick stutter. She took the final few steps to the couch and found Dick curled up there, staring at nothing. If the stuttering hadn’t given away the crying jag he’d clearly been on, the red-rimmed, puffy eyes and tear-streaked face were dead giveaways. His arms were hugging a pillow, but Mac could tell that his hands were shaking. She sat down on the coffee table next to his head, which forced him to focus on her.

“Veronica. Is she OK, Mac?"

Nodding her head, Mac stayed quiet, just staring at him for a minute, trying to figure out what to say and how to say it. Then she realized that this was Dick, and the best way was really to just go stomping through like a herd of elephants. Subtle, he was not. He was also likely very fragile—she remembered what that had been like when they’d had to talk down Logan all those years ago—so she went with direct and matter of fact. “Veronica is with Wallace. She wouldn’t tell me what happened, but if I had to guess, I’d say you said something about what happened with Cassidy.”

A burst of air escaped from Dick, as though he had been punched in the gut. He closed his eyes, no longer able to bear her looking at him. “Mac, he…" 

“Yeah, he did.” She’d figured out how to handle this many years and many therapy hours ago, and knew the value of facing it head on. Mac wasn’t going to hide anything now. He would never get better if he didn’t come to terms with it. “I mean, she never specifically told me he did, but…yeah.”

Tears started quietly down Dick’s face again. “I put him in that room with her. I told him to do it.” He brought his hands up to cover his face, another wall to hide behind so as not to face Mac’s judgment.

The bile rose in Mac’s throat, and she got up and rushed to the patio door, hoping that the fresh air would quell the urge to throw up. Breathing deeply helped and she attempted to put aside her own feelings in order to get Dick under control. “What happened, Dick?” Mac wasn’t sure if she was asking about the rape or about Dick’s confrontation with Veronica. She didn’t particularly want to hear about either, but if Dick was going to recover from any of this—if _any_ of them were going to put the whole thing behind them once and for all—then he needed to answer. She’d let him interpret the question in whatever way he wanted.

 

On the couch, Dick tried to figure out how to explain what kind of monster he really was. Through his hands, he began, “Last night, I –” Dick had been about to say dreamt but didn’t really want to get into his X-Files nights at the moment, so he uncovered his face and modified it to “- remembered what happened at some party I got drunk at in high school. I guess the…therapy shook loose some memories or something, I don’t know. Anyway, I kinda stepped back and saw the whole thing… as an outsider. I realized that I got so drunk I spiked Madison’s drink with E and somehow Ronnie got it.”

Seeing Mac’s eyes go hard, he winced. “I know, Mac. I’m scum, you don’t need to tell me. I was so fucked up, though, it seemed like a good idea at the time.” When she opened her mouth to speak, Dick cut her off. “Don’t bother with the lecture, Mac. I’ve been giving it to myself all morning. I was too drunk to see what a dick move it was; Jesus, I’m worse than scum.”

It seemed like he wasn’t going to escape the lecture after all. Dick could see Mac shaking, revulsion clear on her face, as she took a few steps further away from the couch. “Dick, you can’t just drug people. What made you think that was OK?" 

“I don’t know, Mac. Honestly, I didn’t even remember doing it until last night. The only thing I can say is that I’m pretty sure I’ve never done it again. I’m going to sound more like the world’s biggest asshole, but after dealing with Maddie being such a bitch for so long, I pretty much only got with chicks who were interested. And, not that this helps, but Maddie and I’d tried E together before when we were going to...you know, so I didn’t think anything of doing it again.”

“You need consent every time, Dick. Look at me.” Mac waited until he sat up and met her eye. “Every. Fucking. Time.”

“Yeah, I already had Logan beat that lesson into me years ago, thanks.” He laughed without humour. “At least now I have some context for that beating. Good to know I absolutely deserved it. I’d always wondered. He was pretty tight-lipped about the reason at the time.” He deflated into the couch. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

 

Seeing Dick’s remorse calmed Mac’s indignation and disgust a little bit but still left her curious. “This doesn’t explain what you had to do with Cassidy assaulting Veronica.”

“Rape, Mac. Say it: Rape. Cassidy raped Veronica.” Dick’s eyes looked tortured as he relived the memory. “Ronnie was in some bedroom passed out, and Beav- Cassidy and I were with her there. I swear I was joking Mac, but basically, I pushed him to…get it while he could.” He hung his head. “God, Mac, I promise I never thought he would do it. I made the joke and left, assuming he’d follow.”

Mac walked over to Dick and sat down on the table in front of him again. She took a deep breath before speaking. “He didn’t, Dick, and now Veronica has to live with that for the rest of her life. You understand that, right? The whole situation was a giant fucking mess and you set the stage for it to happen. It will take a lot for you to make amends for that.”

Dick’s head shot up, and he stared at her in surprise. “Amends? You think I can make amends for this?”

“I have no idea. But I do know that, despite what you think, you didn’t force Cassidy to do what he did. He wasn’t a robot programmed by you. He had a choice, and he chose wrong. And I know that Cassidy was broken long before that party. I also know that you were a fucked up, entitled, asshole high school kid who was never taught any better. My question to you is, who are you _now_?” Mac’s gaze didn’t waver as she stared at him straight on.

Uncertainty exuded from Dick’s every pore and he was unable to answer. _I’m a fucked up, entitled, asshole adult. I’m a drunk and a druggie. I’m nothing._ And then, _Fuck, her eyes are the colour of the ocean_. Realizing that he was staring like a creeper, he shook his head. _What the hell was that?_

His thoughts went unspoken, but he’d never been any good at keeping them off his face. Now was no exception, and Mac could see the deep, dark rabbit hole of self-loathing he was tumbling into. Knowing that, despite everything, Logan thought of Dick as family, she knew she had to try for his sake. This was her watch, and there was no way she was going to fail. She put every ounce of determination she could into her voice.

“You want to know what I see? This, here, is rock bottom. Welcome.” She spread her arms wide and then behind her, leaning back on her hands. “You get five more minutes to wallow in it, and then we start the climb back out of the pit. Despite everything that happened, Logan didn’t desert you, did he? _He_ must believe that you’re more than all of this. More than that party. Do you think for _one second_ that he would let you within one hundred feet of Veronica if he thought you would pull that shit again? Hell, do you think _Veronica_ would have let you keep your junk all this time if she thought you would actually hurt some girl? Yes, she hasn’t forgiven you for what happened. You haven’t given her a reason to. But she knows who her rapist was, and it wasn’t you. _Now_ you need to give her a reason to forgive you.” She finished her speech and sat still, hoping she was convincing enough.

Dick stared at her, a question on his face. “Why are you here, Mac? Why bother with me?”

Looking away, she gave him the one answer that she knew would finally sway him. It also happened to be the truth. “I couldn’t help him; it was too late. Cassidy, I mean. But you…you I can help. I’ve got to at least try to save one Casablancas brother, right?” She flicked her eyes back to his and saw there Dick’s acknowledgment that this was the first step that he could take to begin making up for everything. This, he was able to give to her.

Dick climbed shakily but determinedly to his feet. “Get me the phone number for Ranch Creek. I need to find my phone.” He stopped and turned back with a small, apologetic grin. “Man, I really do sound like an entitled, rich bastard. I meant: do you mind getting me the phone number for Ranch Creek? Please?” 

Mac quirked her eyebrow and smiled, surprised but pleased at his unexpected request, and pulled out her phone. Dick bobbed his head in thanks, and she could see a fleeting glimmer of pride pass over him, as though he was happy that he’d somehow gained a small amount of her approval.

 

Three hours later, Mac and Dick were in her car approaching Ranch Creek Recovery for the second time in two months. Dick had called and spoken at length with Dr. Blake. The good doctor hadn’t even said “I told you so” or sounded condescending or anything, for which Dick was grateful. He did ask, though- repeatedly and in every way possible – what made Dick think that this time would be any different than it had been three weeks ago. Shut up alone in his office while Mac began packing his bag, Dick explained how Melanie’s story from group sessions had stayed with him as well as about his confrontation with Veronica. How he’d reached a point that morning where he couldn’t live with himself like this anymore and he didn’t want anyone else to get hurt because of him. How he had one family member left, and if he didn’t find a way to make things right with Logan’s girlfriend, then he’d likely lose Logan too. He _couldn’t_ lose Logan too.

Dick didn’t tell Dr. Blake about what Mac had said, though. That was between him and Mac. He didn’t understand why her offer of help and approval at his decision to return to rehab were so important to him, but he held on to the warmth they infused him with in a vice grip. He’d need that feeling to help him through the next several weeks.

 

The white ranch-style building came into view and Mac could hear Dick sigh loudly and start to fidget with the zipper on his hoodie. She could almost hear the doubts mounting in his mind, piling one on top of the other with each swish of the zipper. He seemed to be hunching deeper into his seat under the weight of them. Her suspicions were confirmed when he declared, “You should just turn around, Mac. I’m never going to be able to do this.” His left leg started bouncing beside the stick shift.

Mac drove up to the door and put the car in park. Letting go of the stick, she reached over and put her hand on his thigh. “Stop!” she said firmly, not just meaning his leg. She got out of the car and came around to open his door. Cocking her leg and presenting her arm, she made an awkward half-bow. “Monsieur, ve haf arrrrrived.” Her mouth lifted in a grin.

Chuckling at her terrible chauffeur imitation, Dick shook his head and got out of the car, ignoring Mac’s proffered arm and instead throwing his own arm around her in a side hug. “Your German accent is shit." 

Mac shrugged him off, pretending indignation. “German! That was my best French, Dumbass.” She shoved him lightly toward the trunk and said, “C’mon, get your bag. You’ve got some rehabbing to get to.”

Instead of heading for the trunk, Dick stopped and stared at the front of the building, hands on his hips. Mac could actually see the fight or flight instinct battling it out in Dick’s mind. _Fight! Fight! Fight!_ Then his face hardened and he turned to get his things. She let out the breath she’d been holding.

It was as though Dick’s movement was a signal to the staff, because suddenly there were people coming from all directions to welcome him back. Dr. Blake appeared, face serious but welcoming, his hand outstretched for Dick to shake. “Richard. Are you ready this time?”

Dick accepted the offered hand and nodded. “Yeah, Doc. No more bullshit from me. Let’s do this.” Before following everyone inside, he turned to Mac, head bowed and eyes on the ground. “Thanks for, you know…whatever.”

“We all have to deal with our demons, Dick. It’s your turn in the ring, that’s all.” She touched his arm briefly and moved to get into her car. He was almost to the door when he spun around and shot back to her, roughly pulling her back out before she could close the door. “Dick, what the fuck-?”

Dick’s eyes were wide with panic and he was trembling so hard, she could feel the vibration through his hands clutching her upper arms. “I just realized! Mac! You and Cassidy! He didn’t- Did he- Not you too!”

Mac pushed at his chest until she realized what he was talking about, and then stopped fighting him to look him straight in the eyes, exuding as much honesty as she could. “NO! Dick, no. He didn’t – We never – No…No.”

Relief overcame him, and Dick pulled her to him, whispering “Thank God!” over and over again. Mac went rigid and then awkwardly patted him on the back until he got hold of himself and stepped away, hands in his pockets. “Sorry, dude,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, no, it’s fine.” She started to get into her car, looking anywhere but at him. “Good luck, Dick. Check in, OK?” Mac managed to look up at him, blushing slightly, wide-eyed with concern and more than a little embarrassment.

“Uh, yeah. Do me a favour? Make sure to tell Ronnie…uh, tell Ronnie that I’m sorry, OK? And Logan, too, when he gets back.” With that, he jogged quickly inside and shut the door.

 

Mac stared after Dick, taking a minute to regroup. _Go get ’em, dude_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was all over the place until BryroseA got hold of it and helped me put it back together. Thank you muchly. Thanks as well for all the comment and kudos. I am humbled.


	10. Chapter 10

The morning sun glinted off every blade of dried grass, every speck of sand, so that the entire desert landscape glowed with a golden aura. There was no better place to admire that beauty than at 7:30 am from the deck overhanging the cliffs on the edge of the Ranch Creek property. Dick was sitting with his feet dangling off the edge of the deck, arms folded across a slat in the railing. It was the same place he’d been every morning for the last three days.

Dick’s return to Ranch Creek had been late in the day, so he’d spent the remaining hours unpacking and getting settled. He’d gone to bed right after supper, exhausted by the maelstrom of emotions he’d experienced the night before his return. The other ‘guests’ – most of them still there from his prior visit - had greeted him with grim smiles but, thankfully, no disingenuous words of welcome. Nobody had wanted to see him again. Dick was, after all, living proof that the program didn’t always work. Seeing the flashes of fear behind their eyes, Dick had escaped to his room instead of participating in the common room activities. Since he’d gone to bed so early, he was up early too, and had gone out to the deck to watch the sun rise. The desert was peaceful all alone in the morning, even if it wasn’t the same as being out on his board in the middle of the ocean. They _were_ supposed to meditate, after all. He knew that from last time.

When Sam stuck his head out of the patio door to let him know that breakfast was getting started, Dick raised a hand in acknowledgment but didn’t turn around, needing a few more minutes before going inside to face the day. He’d thought he had known how hard this would be, having done it before, but it turned out he was dead wrong.

_Guess you really didn’t pay attention that first time around. No wonder you fucked it up, idiot._

 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Dick.” Dr. Blake had said during his first session two days ago. “You’re not a failure because you fell off the wagon. You’re here, aren’t you? You got up and decided to get back on; that’s one for the win column. The trick is to make a checkmark in the win column every day. It won’t be easy. You’ll need to do the work; more so than last time.”

And that’s what had Dick so worried. He’d never worked hard for anything in his life. What if he didn’t know _how_ to work hard? And he didn’t go in with all that religious stuff, so what if the 12 step AA thing didn’t work for him? _Logan did it, dude, and he doesn’t fucking believe in God or whatever. And look at him now. Christ, he’s a goddamn fucking war hero! “_ This shit _must_ work, right?” he asked a passing jay. The bird landed further down the railing and stared at Dick; even though it didn’t answer him, Dick chose to believe in the bird’s unspoken agreement. “Right. So get the fuck up and go eat, _Richard_.” He said the last with a scowl, but got up and made his way inside to start working.

 

“Good afternoon, everyone,” welcomed Martha, the AA meeting leader, right after breakfast. “So, who would like to start us off today?”

Dick was sure that her eyes rested on him just a fraction of a second longer than on anyone else. Taking that as his cue, he raised his hand, nervous because he’d never spoken at the any of the previous AA meetings.

“Hey,” his hand lowered to become a self-conscious half-wave, “So, uh…yeah, hi. My name is Dick, and I’m an alcoholic.”

_Boom goes the dynamite on step one. Admit I have a problem: done! Only eleven more to go, dude._

Everyone responded with the customary “Hi, Dick” and then waited patiently for him to continue.

The group—nine members and a leader—were sitting on chairs and couches set up in a rough circle in the common room. Dick glanced quickly around, never quite making eye contact with anyone, before settling his gaze on a stain in the middle of the carpet.

“I’m, uh, back here for my second round. But, um, you guys all know that already.” He looked up at Martha apologetically, “Sorry.” She waved away his apology, indicating that he should continue. “Yeah, so, I guess I didn’t really try very hard the first time I was here. I guess you guys already know that too, huh?” He chuckled without humour. He felt ridiculous. “I don’t really know what else to say. I found out that I did some really shitty things to my fr- to someone my best friend loves while I was drunk, and I need to make sure that never happens again. So here I am.”

Martha waited to make sure that Dick was done talking before asking, “Do you want to tell us what happened, Richard?”

Dick was very aware of Melanie, the Burning Man festival girl, sharing the couch with him and shook his head, not looking in her direction. “No, not today.” _She must be almost out of here, right? No way I can tell these guys any of what went down with Ronnie if Melanie’s here. Can’t do that to her._

“That’s OK. You took a big step today anyway, Richard, by admitting that you have a problem with alcohol.” Martha reached over from her chair two seats down to squeeze Dick’s shoulder and forced him to look her in the eye. “Good for you.” She smiled encouragingly and then turned back to the group. Everyone else’s attention refocused on Barry who began describing some epiphany he’d had the day before during meditation.

But Dick wasn’t listening; he was too wrapped up navigating the melting pot of feelings he was experiencing: pride for truly accomplishing step one as well as suffocating humiliation at having fucked up his life. _Man, I could really use a drink!_

 

It was a few days later in the group session that Dick found himself in the hot seat again. Since his admission during the AA meeting, he’d been relatively quiet, mostly just listening to the other guests’ stories, triumphs and struggles. Maybe, he figured, if he listened to the others closely enough, he could figure out what to do next. Long nights spent reading and rereading twelve step pamphlets had left him feeling discouraged and detached from the process, and he couldn’t figure out how to move forward. The panic he’d felt during those first few days was starting to show itself again as a constant roiling in his gut.

The group leader, Devon, must have smelled Dick’s fear and decided that he needed a nudge. “So, Richard… I hear you climbed step one the other day. How does it feel, man?”

Dick’s left knee started bouncing at full speed. “Uh, yeah, dude. It was- uh, it wasn’t so bad, I guess. I don’t know, I guess since I at least got that far the first time around, this time was easier. Especially since, you know, I meant it this time.”

Devon nodded in understanding. He was easygoing and good at not judging anyone for what they said. Dick liked him, especially after discovering that they had surfing in common, and appreciated that he let the guests pretty much guide the group discussions. It’s what made the twinge of betrayal feel that much sharper when Devon pushed the conversation out of Dick’s comfort zone. “Any particular reason why you haven’t kept going then? Step 2 awaits, buddy.” He looked around the room and asked, “Can anyone remind Dick what Step 2 is?”

Anton, epitome of the perfect guest, sat up even straighter than he normally did and recited, “Believe that a power greater than ourselves can restore us to sanity.”

Shooting Devon an annoyed side-eye at being cornered, Dick mumbled, “Feels like a honker, I guess.” He opted to use surfer lingo so that maybe he wouldn’t seem like such a chicken shit to the others if they didn’t understand him.

“Nah, man! It’s a piece of cake! Hell, you’ve essentially done it just by showing up here, no?” Devon sat back in his seat and crossed his arms, accepting Dick’s shade without backing down.

Dick shook his head and replied a little bitterly, “If it were that easy, I wouldna had to come back, would I?”

Devon smiled proudly. “Good! You’re actually thinking this time. So tell us, what’s so hard?”

It took a minute for Dick to figure out how to not sound like a—well, like a dick. “It’s just all the ‘higher power’ stuff. I don’t….” He took a breath and stared defiantly around the room. “I don’t really believe in it. Not that, like, I want to offend anyone, but, uh, if God is real, well, he’s certainly never done me any favours.” He shrugged and crossed his arms protectively around himself.

“Fair enough,” Rob, another guest, agreed. “I think most of us probably felt like you do, at the beginning. Just think about it, though, Richard. It can be very liberating. Trust me.” Dick made a non-committal noise, and thankfully, Devon moved on to someone else.

 

Later that evening, Dick called Mac to check in as promised. When she asked him how it was going this time around, he shrugged and then realized she couldn’t see him. Wiping his hand down his face, he decided to fill her in on the problems he was having working through the twelve steps. _Hope she really wanted to know._

But Mac surprised him by not brushing him off or trying to get rid of him. “Huh. Well, I might be able to help you with that actually. Have you ever heard of the Agnostic Steps? Or the Humanist ones?”

“Uh, no. I don’t even know what that means.”

“They’re the twelve steps from AA, but without all the religious mumbo-jumbo.”

“And why the fuck do you know this?” Dick asked, incredulous.

“This isn’t my first rodeo, remember? I did some research a few years ago after Logan went in. I’m thinking you’re probably about as God-fearing as he is; which is to say, not at all. Hang on, I’ll email you a link.” Her voice took on a slightly distracted edge.

Dick could hear her typing away in the background, and then his phone chimed to signal a new message. He chuckled softly. “I should have just hired you instead of coming back here. Sounds like you’re full of useful information.”

“Yeaahh, no thanks. I’m much more about solving tech problems. Less emotional baggage, more binary code.”

Once again, Mac had come through for him. Dick knew she was only helping him out of some misplaced feelings of guilt, but he was grateful anyway. “Thanks, Mackie.”

Mac snorted into the phone. “Mackie?”

Smiling, Dick replied, “Your new nickname. Get used to it, Mackie.”

“Oh goodie.” Mac said dryly. “Go check your message, _Dickie_. Logan will be home in a few days and he’ll want to know how it’s going. Give him some good news, will ya?”

“Kowabunga.” Dick ended the call and flipped over to his email to open the link and scroll through the list.

_Step 2._ _Come to believe and to accept that we need strengths beyond our awareness and resources to restore us to sanity._

Dick stared at the words for a long time that night before turning off his light and going to sleep. Suddenly, tomorrow seemed a little less hard. 

_At this rate you’re going to owe Mac an island if she keeps on saving your ass._

He fell asleep and for a change dreamed peacefully of Mac on a deserted tropical island, walking down the beach ahead of him in a tank top and capris, wind blowing through her hair. The image evaporated as Dick surfaced from sleep the next morning without leaving any trace of a memory. Still, he decided that he could get used to waking up feeling as contented as he did that morning.

 

Later that day in AA, Dick climbed the second step. He waited until it seemed like the others had said their piece before straightening up in his chair and opening with, “Hey, everybody. My name is Dick, and I’m an alcoholic.”

“Hi, Dick,” the others chanted in monotone reply.

Dick glanced around the circle, hands resting on his knees which where bouncing nervously. “So, I talked to a…friend of mine after group session yesterday. She, uh, told me about these steps that were all God-free. I checked ‘em out and, uh, they seemed pretty cool. So I guess, like Devon said yesterday, I kinda already did step two by coming back here. I really _can’t_ do this alone **.** And, uh, I guess there’s not only you guys, but I also have peeps back in Neptune. Good people, not,” and Dick blushed sheepishly, “my party crew or anything. They’re the reason I’m back here. I owe them big, whether they ever want to deal with me again or not. Anyway, I’ll shut up now, but, uh, I’m glad I’m here. Thanks.”

Martha searched Dick’s face for a moment, and then asked, “The twelve steps work, Dick, no matter how you choose to interpret them. If the ones you have work for you, then good. These friends of yours, can you really count on them?”

Dick bobbed his head. “Yeah. Logan’s, uh, been here before, actually, so he’s keen on helping me with this. Mac – she’s the friend who sent me the info and brought me back here – well, she’s not running away, so I guess that’s good. There are a few others. It might be harder with them because, well- I told you about Logan’s girlfriend the other day, right? That I was really shitty to her? Well, she was helping because of Logan, and so was her best friend. But then everything went down right before I came back so…I don’t know how much they’ll be willing to help, now.” His head drooped slightly and he frowned. 

“Well, step three requires that you use the experience of those around you to learn new habits and reactions. Sounds like you have that, both here and at home. Seems like you climbed two steps today, Dick. Well done.”

Dick looked up at Martha, hope beginning to glimmer in his eyes. The other members of the group were nodding encouragingly too.As he digested her words, a small smile broke out and he looked around, sitting a little straighter.

_Man, if this is what hard work feels like, bring it!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to @BryroseA. And thanks to all of you who continue to encourage me with your generous comments and kudos.


	11. Chapter 11

“Hey, Doc.” Dick nodded at Dr. Blake and sat in the chair in front of his desk. “What do we have on the agenda today?”

It was the morning after Dick’s success with steps two and three. He knew that the doctor must have heard; there wasn’t much that Dr. Blake didn’t know about what went on at the center. As expected, he was beaming when Dick walked into the office and proceeded to offer his congratulations on Dick’s progress.

“It’s good to see you taking the program so seriously this time, Richard. So let’s capitalize on your momentum, shall we? Tell me about your family.”

The question took Dick by surprise and he recoiled, shifting around as he composed himself, crossing his arms and lowering his eyes, suddenly finding the inlay on the front of the desk extremely fascinating.

“Uh, what do you want to know that you didn’t already find out in line at the grocery store?” 

Dr. Blake’s mouth tightened, but otherwise he stayed quiet. Dick grumbled under his breath at the doctor’s unwillingness to be provoked into distraction and lifted his eyes, resigned. “Sorry. Um, I assume you know the gory details of my family circus?”

Dr. Blake nodded and replied, “I do, though I’m not interested in those particulars right now. I want to know about your day-to-day relationship with the members of your family.”

At this request, an unbidden “Ha!” burst out of Dick. “That’s easy, dude. I don’t have one. It’s kinda hard when your dad lives on an island in the Atlantic, your mom forgets that you exist, and your brother jumped off a hotel roof.” The bitterness underlying his words bled through.

“ _Most_ people who come here don’t compare their family life to the Brady Bunch, Dick. You’re hardly the first to have it hard at home. And you did mention in group that you had friends to support you when you leave here. Today I’d like to discuss your feelings about not having family around-,” he raised an eyebrow as he made his last point, ”-and how that has contributed to your drinking.” When Dick nodded, accepting his logic, he began again, “Let’s start with your mother since, based on everything I know, she doesn’t seem to have been around very much.”

“ _That’s_ the understatement of the century!” Dick huffed and then settled back, forcing himself to relax despite how unnerved he was feeling. “She left when my parents split. I was seven.”

It happens to so many marriages; the curse of the seven-year itch. Of course, in the case of the Casablancases, it was debatable whether or not it actually started at seven years and who’d scratched their itch more often, Bettina or Dick Sr. They’d had a cordial marriage at best, and even Dick knew enough biology and math to count backwards from his birthday to his parents wedding anniversary and realize that there weren’t enough baby making months in between. He was sure that his mother had gotten herself pregnant in order to get married and live the life she believed that she deserved. There were few better catches for a first husband than the heir to a real estate fortune, after all. But, after she’d caught him, she’d had little use for the tool used to set the trap and had preferred to hire strangers to raise her son while she flew off for shopping trips in Europe and spa getaways. Big Dick was no better, trapped by a woman he barely tolerated, succumbing to the conventions of the time.

Despite being unwilling parents, social norms dictated that they at least show a bare minimum of attention to their child, so Dick was treated as the typical entitled heir to a fortune. He was given everything he wanted that would keep him out of his parents’ hair, had had minimal supervision and no rules or structure. Those times when Big Dick decided to play at being a dad usually involved grandiose and inappropriate gestures, like taking Dick Jr. with him to the club to show him off or speeches about what it meant to be a “real man.”

Cassidy, on the other hand, had been part of the one percent failure rate statistic of the pill. Neither Dick Sr. nor Bettina had wanted him, and he grew up feeling the effects of that neglect. Obviously.

Dick continued to describe his home life to Dr. Blake during that session and over many others in the following weeks. He shared memories of holidays as a young child spent either surrounded by strangers at Dick and Bettina’s fancy parties or alone when they had flown off to some exotic destinations, usually separately. He explained the story of how Cassidy had gotten his nickname, although he still didn’t own up to having the dreams. The story of Sally, Dick’s hamster, found in pieces on Dick’s bed after Dick had taped his brother to his bicycle as a joke, came out. Squirrels and birds found dead in the canyon behind the house. He and his father endlessly making fun of his brother. His mom marrying her way up the food chain--now on her fourth husband, an ambassador to some small country in Europe--and how she sent flowers but didn’t come back for the funeral. Big Dick living it up in the Cayman Islands, blowing the fortune that he’d hidden there over the better part of his life.

It was difficult to pinpoint when it happened, but at some point during those weeks of discussions, Dick began to understand just how much his parents had shaped him, despite their self-centeredness and neglect. He had been a child desperate for attention, any attention, even if it came at the expense of another, a habit he carried over into adulthood. And what better way to gain approval than to emulate the behavior of the parent who was still around?

“So you see, Dick, the behavior you’re exhibiting isn’t altogether unexpected, considering your relationship with your parents,” Dr. Blake concluded, three weeks in to their discussions.

Dick, drained of emotion after having rehashed all of the unpleasantness of his childhood, sat staring into the middle distance. “Yeah, someone told me that once,” he acknowledged, thinking of Keith and his very first dream.

“Oh yeah? And how did you respond?”

Dick refocused on the doctor. “I blew him off. I mean, I guess he was – you’re both right. But I still can’t figure out how to stop feeling so guilty. I can barely stand myself most days.”

Dr. Blake sat forward in his chair and clasped his hands on his desk, staring intently at Dick. “So, what does that tell you about your drinking problem?”

“That…uh…I drink to escape feeling like crap all the time?” Dick replied, a little hesitant but sure that he was being led to something important.

“And what about your behavior before your brother died? What do you think about that?" 

“Um, well, I guess I try to be the party guy because I don’t want to bring anyone else down with my shit. I mean, it looks like I have this great life, you know? I’m hot and rich; what’s not to like about that? People have always thought that I’m some dumb surfer man-slut. I guess it was just easier to be what they were expecting. I mean, it sounds pretty cool, right? Better than some lonely, pansy-ass kid, anyway.”

“So, basically you’re saying that you drink, do drugs and use casual sex because that’s what you think people expect of you, as well as to alleviate all the feelings of guilt and abandonment you’ve been harbouring.” Dr. Blake leaned back in his chair and waited.

Dick took a moment to absorb what the doctor had paraphrased back to him. He had to admit, that was pretty much what he’d said, just with a bunch of big fancy words added. _Maybe those dreams weren’t full of shit after all._

“Yeah, I guess that’s what I’m saying.”

Dr. Blake clapped his hands together. “Excellent, Richard! Now, pull out your card.” 

Dick reached into his back pocket for his wallet and pulled out a laminated yellow card with six statements on either side.

“OK, so read me number four.”

Dick had reprinted Mac’s list of twelve steps three times already. He had folded and refolded the copies so many times they kept coming apart. After the last time, he’d decided to laminate himself an easy to use card for his wallet.

“Make a searching and fearless moral inventory of myself.”

“And what does that mean?”

“I need to understand myself and why I drink so that I can figure out my triggers.”

“Well done. Do you think you’ve done that now?”

Looking up from the card, Dick smiled his first real smile in many weeks. “You bet, dude! Man, I gotta call Logan tonight and tell ‘im. I hope he and Ronnie are back from Bali.”

Dr. Blake returned Dick’s smile and got up from his desk to signal the end of the meeting. “You’ve come a long way, Richard. Our next step is to look at strategies to help address your feelings of guilt and keep you out of the bottle. But for right now, go celebrate your achievements. You’ve earned it.” He stuck out his hand for Dick to shake.

“Thanks Doc. I’m gonna go find the bar in this place and party.” He smirked as the doctor’s face fell. “I’m kidding, man. What, too soon?” Chuckling, Dick left the office in search of some Häagen Dazs and his bathing suit.

* * *

 The package arrived the afternoon after his ice cream celebration. The day before, as soon as he finished his bowl of Vanilla Swiss Almond, Dick had called Logan to tell him about his progress with Dr. Blake.

“Hey, dude! How was Bali? When did you get back?” Dick asked his friend when Logan picked up.

“Dick! How you doin’, man? I’m sure Bali was wonderful, but we didn’t see more than our room, the hot tub and the ten feet of ocean right off our pier. You know how it is.” Dick could hear the smug grin in Logan’s voice and shook his head. Then he heard Logan add in a whisper, “Uh, don’t tell V I told you that, okay? She’ll kill me.”

Dick chuckled. “Don’t worry, bro. I don’t think Ronnie has any plans to talk to me anyway. Your perviness is safe with me.” Realizing that his joking had inadvertently touched on a darker subject, he cleared his throat and continued awkwardly, “Uh, yeah, about that, Logan…”

“Dick, stop. I pummelled you already for that years ago; I’ve got no beef with you. But Veronica…I don’t know. We’re going to need to figure it out when you get home. I’m still here for you, though. Whatever you need. She understands that.”

Dick closed his eyes in relief. Logan had called him when he got back from his deployment, before they left for Bali, but there hadn’t really been time to discuss what happened with Veronica. “Thanks, dude. I owe you a big sloppy kiss when I see you.”

“Uh, no thanks. Besides, you know there’s supposed to be no hooking up for, like, a year, right? No breaking the rules!” Logan’s voice was dry.

“Don’t remind me,” Dick replied morosely. “But look, I called to give you some good news. Uh, so, yeah, I climbed step four today. The doc even told me to celebrate. Ice cream isn’t quite the same as Cristal, but I’ll take what I can get in here.” Dick shrugged, a little bashful despite the fact that Logan couldn’t see him. “Seems weird to celebrate realizing how much I suck as a human being, though.”

“No, you should celebrate. It helps to keep you moving forward. Did he have you make the list?” Logan’s pride could be heard through the phone and Dick felt silly when he admitted to himself how much he had been waiting for Logan’s approval.

“List? No. What list?”

“Ha, you’ll see. Look man, that’s great news, but I need to go. You still set to get out next week?”

“Yeah, I think so. Look, can you do me a favour? Can you let Mac know, too? She, uh, was really great about making me check in while you were gone. I’d…like her to know how it’s going.” Dick cringed, knowing he was tipping his hand. He could practically hear Logan’s eyebrows raise in surprise, but admired how his friend kept his voice neutral when he said that he would.

“One more thing.”

“Yeah? I, uh, _really_ gotta go here...” Logan’s voice was distracted and suspiciously husky, but Dick persevered, anxious to settle something.

“Focus, Romeo. Tell your woman to take her hand off your dick for a second; this is important.” He could hear a brief rustle on the other end of the line and waited for Logan’s “Yeah, yeah” before continuing. “You said you were back for, like, eighteen months or something, right? I was hoping that you could be my sponsor, man.” Dick held his breath, waiting to see if he was climbing step six too that day by asking for a sponsor.

Logan’s response was solemn but he clearly sounded touched. “Of course.”

The breath he was holding erupted from Dick. “Thanks Logan. Now go and satisfy your woman. One of us might as well be getting lucky.”

Apparently, Logan was taking his role as sponsor seriously, which was how Dick ended up opening the wrapped parcel and finding a moleskin notebook with the Serenity Prayer inscribed in the front cover in Logan’s neat block letters, signed with a loopy “L”. Inserted inside was a red bookmark with the words “Keep Calm and Stay Sober” written on it, which he was sure came from Mac. Instead of leaving it in the book, Dick pulled out his wallet and stored it along with his twelve steps card.

Later that day, Dick had finally understood what Logan had been alluding to on the phone. During his group meeting where he admitted all his faults to the others ( _step five, telling people his reasons for wanting to escape into a bottle; booyah_!), Sam explained that it was useful to start logging all the issues that he want to address and all of the people that he had wronged. It was the beginning of the process of making amends.

Never much of a writer, Dick stared at the journal on his desk doubtfully before sitting down and picking up his pen. He decided to begin at the beginning, by writing down all the dreams and what each one had made him see about himself.

The scratch of his pen could be heard well into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am both grateful I have never had to experience rehab, and at a loss of how to explain it realistically. Forgive me if I'm straying too far. Thanks as always to BryroseA who is the best beta ever!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm the lamest person with HTML and despite BryroseA excellent suggestions, I just didn't know where to start. Please use the following formatting notes:  
> 1) Indent = dream sequence  
> 2) Italics = thoughts  
> 3) Bold italics = written journal entry

The fresh, salty air wafted through the open window of Dick’s beach house and over the desk where he was sitting, his journal open to a blank page. The lingering smell of rain tickled his senses as he stared through the drops on the windowpane at the grey surf frothing up the wet sand.

Dick had been home for almost two months and still took the time to write at his desk every day. He smiled to himself when he thought about how his old party entourage would laugh at his daily introspection, but he no longer cared what they thought. He hadn’t seen or heard from them since a few days after he’d returned home, when Chuck and Jenn showed up at his door looking for Dick’s pharmaceutical hand outs and a party. Logan, who was staying with Dick until he felt strong enough to be alone, had tossed them out on the street with the admonishment that the pharmacy was permanently closed and they were no longer part of the contact list on Dick’s phone.

For the first month Dick went to an AA meeting every day, Logan going with him when he wasn’t at the base, trying different groups until he found one he felt comfortable with. Now, several weeks into a new routine, he still needed the meetings, but only a few times a week. He definitely felt more in control.

Consequently, Logan had moved out the week before, and Dick knew it helped to ease tensions with Veronica considerably. Veronica still refused to come to the beach house when Dick was there but remained genuinely supportive of Logan staying to help his friend as long as necessary. The few times they did cross paths were awkward but civil, no one wanting to disrupt the precarious normalcy Dick was trying to carve out for himself. Wallace remained generally friendly, too, but his loyalties lay clearly with Veronica and Dick wouldn’t begrudge him that. Mac, on the other hand, took over for Logan on the nights that he and V needed some alone time, playing video games or getting Dick to teach her to surf to get him out of the house. Both she and Logan had also introduced Dick to a few of their other friends, and he’d even hit it off with some guys he’d met when he decided to start playing golf again. Overall, Dick had settled into his new “party-lite” life pretty successfully and with a gusto that surprised everyone, including himself. The fact that Mac was still willing to be around him didn’t hurt either, although he would only admit that to himself in the very darkest hours of night, alone in bed.

When the raindrops became too dense on the glass and the ocean view warped into a wonky Dali painting, Dick looked down at his journal and flipped haphazardly through the pages, bookmarking his place with his twelve step card. His attention caught on the text of seventh step –“With humility and openness seek to eliminate my shortcomings.” – which he knew he had climbed as soon as he wrote his first word in his first journal describing his first dream. Making that little red checkmark next to the statement had been an extremely satisfying moment. There was also a checkmark next to number eight, which talked about listing all of the people that he had wronged. He wanted so badly to check off number nine too– that he had actually made amends to everyone that he could–but until he figured out how to do that with Mac and Ronnie, he knew he wouldn’t be able to complete that step.

Dick was on his third journal already; each containing detailed descriptions written in his large, childlike scrawl, depicting his dreams as well as lists upon lists of life decisions that he had fucked up and people he had let down. He glanced over a random page containing a list of people he had wronged in one column, almost all crossed out, and a list of actions next to each name that he had done to hopefully make up for some of the damage he had done.

**_~~Madison Sinclair~~_     _invitation to showcase at cardio conference in Vegas/extra swag bag/ prize for draw = free studio time at Equinox in LA_**

**_~~Miss Taylor (grade 2 teacher)~~     lifetime membership to book club_ **

**_~~Bums from bum fights~~      $$$ to Neptune homeless shelter_ **

**_~~Logan~~   asshole won’t let me apologize again. Said me getting clean & letting him help as my sponsor was enough. Sentimental pussy._ **

**_Mac_ **

**_Ronnie_ **

_I should probably figure out a thank you for Keith too. He might not have known he helped me, but still._

Dick added Keith’s name to the list and then flipped back to his saved blank page, picked up his pen and started to write.

**_Met with my lawyers and accountants today. Turns out my fortune wasn’t totally squandered on drugs, booze and babes, thank God. Finally worked out the deets for the donation to the Lilith House fundraiser so that they don’t know where it came from. Logan’s idea of creating a foundation was genius but he’d better fucking keep his mouth shut, especially to Ronnie. I just hope those lawyers know what they’re doing and buried my name deep enough. Last thing I want is anyone connecting me to R.C. Album Domum. I have so much I want need to do, but if anyone knows it’s me, will they accept any of it? I never wanted to be anyone’s charity case either and they’ll already think I’m trying to buy my way out of everything. But what else have I got to offer anyone besides my money? It will just have to do until I can figure out another way. Besides, I can’t possibly give money to every chick I scammed. At least with R.C., I can contribute to something good for all womanki_ **

The doorbell rang, interrupting Dick’s sentence. He threw down his pen and flipped the book closed as he rose to answer the door.

“Mac! Dave! Kat! What are you guys doing here?” Dick questioned the threesome on his doorstep.

“Dude, get your coat, we’re going out. I have four mini-golf tickets burning a hole in my pocket, and then I’ve got a hankering for a bonfire on the beach. Let’s motor!” Dave responded, dropping his arm from Kat’s shoulder and waving his hands in a “hurry up” motion.

“Uh, just us?” Dick glanced quickly at Mac and then back to Dave, hoping his hesitation wasn’t visible. This outing smelled a little too much like a double date and he didn’t want to make Mac uncomfortable. It was one thing to hang out playing video games but another to go on a 50s-style dating activity with another couple.

He clearly wasn’t smooth enough because Mac turned a just visible shade of pink at the question, but tried to cover with a smirk and a sarcastic, “What? Are you worried the girls are gonna kick the guys’ asses? C’mon, Scaredy Cat. Unless you don’t feel up to the challenge?” She quirked her eyebrow at him, and for the first time in his life, Dick did not know how to react to a proposition from a woman.

Staring at her and hoping to gage her real intentions, he swallowed and decided that there was no way that she’d be into him in a million years. _Which totally sucks._ He’d need to get these thoughts about Mac under control, not an easy task considering he’d been celibate for close to four months and still had about another eight to go. This was Mac, though, not some bimbo one night stand – _You don’t do those anymore, idiot!_ – and he would never put her in that position. He shrugged his shoulders as though he wasn’t bothered at all by her challenge and turned to grab his keys from the hook next to the door. “I’m always up, babe. You should know that by now.” He waggled his eyebrows at her to exaggerate his joke, and she laughed at him in return. “Let’s get this party started!” When she turned away to walk back to the car in front, Dick dropped his act and took a deep breath before he swung the door shut and followed his friends.

* * *

 

\--9 weeks later---

“Macaroni! You paged? What can I do you for?” Dick asked Mac as he walked up to the booth at the diner across from the beach, wetsuit unzipped and hanging low on his waist. At a dirty look and nod from the waitress towards the “No shoes, No shirt, No service” sign, he quickly pulled on the tank top he’d been carrying and mumbled a contrite apology.

Mac laughed at him and nodded for him to sit down. “Thanks for meeting me for lunch, Dick. Work is kicking my ass this week, and I really didn’t have any other free time. But I needed some help with something, and wanted your opinion.”

Dick’s face registered his surprise, and Mac laughed at him again.

“ _My_ opinion? Do you have a fever? I don’t know anything about anything, Mac. You of all people should know that.” He was genuinely confused at what Mac thought he could possibly know that she didn’t.

Before Mac could speak, the waitress, a woman in her mid-forties with bottle blond hair teased to the heavens and blue eye shadow, walked over and asked what they wanted. Immediately, Dick flicked the switch on the charm and gave her his best fifty-watt smile. “I’d love your phone number, Barb. C’mon, why do you keep breaking my heart every time I come in here?”

Frowning, Mac glanced back and forth between Barb and Dick before breaking in to order a Cobb salad and coffee. Dick winked at the waitress and ordered the burger plate and a glass of water, and Barb left them to themselves, shaking her head.

“Dick! What the hell was that? You know you aren’t supposed to hook up for the first year in AA. And she’s, like, fifteen years older than you!” Mac chastised him.

“Relax, Mac. Barb and I have an understanding. I make like I’m asking her out and she gives me extra fries. I make her feel desirable, and she keeps me fed. Win-win.” Dick leaned back in his bench and narrowed his eyes at Mac, trying to decide why she was really giving him shit. _Is she just making sure I follow all the rules, or is there something else?_ “So, enough about my sex life, even though I’m sure you find it fascinating.” He winked at her teasingly. “What can I do to help you?”

Mac looked down at her hands, clearly unsure of speaking aloud what she wanted to say. “I…want to invest in…Mars Investigations, - ” She took a deep breath and picked up the pace a little, now that she got her intentions out. “But unlike my and Logan’s little foray into business with that website we had in college; I need this proposal to be a little more…officially businessy. I was hoping you could help me navigate my way through the legal crap that I need to do. I’d like to start by putting together a proposal to take to Keith and Veronica, but, um, it’s still kind of a secret, so please don’t tell Logan until I talk to them.”

Of all the things he was expecting, this was not it. Maybe he _could_ actually help Mac with something, finally, after all the help that she gave him these last few months. And she trusted _him_ to help her with this. That was probably the best part of the whole thing. Dick’s smile rose at least thirty watts but this time it was shining at Mac. “No problem! You clearly need as much help as possible if you’re using words like ‘officially businessy’.”

* * *

 

\--5 months later---

**_I had another damn dream last night. I can’t believe after like ten months sober I’m still fucking getting these dreams. This is such bullshit!_ **

Dick stopped writing and took a deep breath to steady his shaking hands. He dropped the pen and stood, stepping over to the yoga mat in the corner of the room. He ran through five sun salutations before he felt the thirst for a beer dissipate. He wondered vaguely if he should call Logan, but decided the urge was passing and he had it under control. He hadn’t wanted a drink that badly in weeks, but this last dream was a doozy, and frankly, he was getting a little tired of them. _How the fuck am I supposed to make amends to dead people?_ He sat in his chair again, hands mussing his hair in frustration, and thought back to the dream he’d woken from only an hour earlier.

> The floor of the boat wobbles slightly. Dick is standing in a bedroom below deck staring at his own body sprawled across a bed, snoring loudly. A half-filled bottle of tequila sits on the bedside table, liquid swaying gently with the movement of the boat.
> 
> _Jesus Christ, now I’m reliving things I didn’t even see? Why me?_
> 
> Dick turns around and heads out the door, up the stairs to the main deck. When he turns the corner, he sees Logan leaning on the rail waiting for him.
> 
> “Aw, Logan, man. You shouldn’t be the one here for this.” Dick hangs his head, unable to face his best friend who had been so terribly affected by a night he wasn’t even present for.
> 
> “And yet, here I am,” Logan replies, spreading his arms as though he was a game show hostess showing off a prize.
> 
> “I’m sorry, dude,” Dick mumbles. “I –”
> 
> Logan cuts off Dick’s apology, voice tense but not angry. “Forget it, Dick. I’ll be fine.”
> 
> Turning to the others on deck, Dick looks up and tries to figure out at what point in that awful night he’s arrived at. Luke is sitting on a bench swigging a beer and talking to Cobb who is sitting nearby. Gia is standing at a small bar, pouring herself another martini from a pitcher, giggling as she spills some all over the front of her bikini. Carrie, pre-pop star treatment and brown haired, stands up from the lounge chair she’s been sitting in and tells the others that she’s going to check on Susan. “Wow, perfect timing,” Dick says drily. He looks over at Logan and sees his friend staring sadly at the retreating form of Carrie.
> 
> “You realise how lucky you are that you passed out before this, right?” Logan turns to Dick, pulling his eyes away from his ex. “What do you think you would have done when Cobb suggested sinking the body?”
> 
> “Honestly, man, I don’t know. I’d like to think that I would never have done it, but…wasted? I might have fucking agreed to anything. I’m a sheep, dude. I know my limitations. I’m not the thinker of the plan, I’m the doer of the plan.”
> 
> Logan laughs humourlessly but stops abruptly when Carrie’s screaming starts from below deck. “You really must have been shit faced to have slept through all this chaos.”
> 
> They step towards the screaming when there seems to be a ripple in the air around them. Logan and Dick suddenly find themselves near the front of the boat watching four people staring over the railing at the dark waves. They can hear sniffling coming from the girls and then watch as Luke rushes to the opposite rail and retches over the side. Cobb is pocketing his phone.
> 
> Dick moves forward without thinking and Logan holds him back by the shoulder -“Can’t touch him.” - but Dick can see that his friend’s free hand is balled into a fist. Instead, Dick turns and walks back to the stern, collapsing on the bench with his face in his hands.
> 
> “I’m going to figure out a way to be forgiven for this. I don’t know if it’s possible, but I’m going to try.” The words are muffled by Dick’s hands.
> 
> “I can see why you feel guilty, Dick, but, man, you are asleep downstairs. You were nowhere in this decision. Yes, it’s shitty that you were involved, and the partying definitely didn’t help, but you didn’t kill Susan and you didn’t decide how to handle it. _They_ used _you_. What you need to deal with is how you got into this in the first place. The drugs. The partying. If you don’t do the drugs, you don’t party, then you aren’t here, you aren’t mixed up in this. There are no drugs, then Carrie doesn’t end up tortured. She doesn’t wind up dead. Gia doesn’t get sexually blackmailed for ten years. She doesn’t end up dead. Luke maybe gets elected president one day. He doesn’t end up with a record, shunned by his political family.”
> 
> Dick looks up at Logan. “You forgot Cobb.”
> 
> “Cobb is a fucker either way. He’s going to rot in hell if I have anything to say about it,” Logan spits out, venomous.
> 
> They are quiet for a few moments, each lost in their own memories of their former friends. Dick stands up and walks over to Logan, staring him right in the eye. “I’m going to find a way to bring something good from this, Logan. For Susan and Gia. For Carrie. For you. That’s a promise.”
> 
> “I know you will, Dick. I never doubted it.” Logan reaches out and squeezes Dick’s shoulder.

Dick could still feel the reassurance of Logan’s hand. He swiped at his face a few times to clear the dream away, and picked back up his pen. After meticulously writing down all the details of his dream, he added Susan, Gia, Luke and Carrie’s names to his amends list, and crossed out the comment he wrote next to Logan’s. _I don’t give a fuck what he says. A promise is a promise._ Next to Susan’s name he wrote _**college fund for baby**_.

It would take some help to find Susan’s kid so he could set up the fund, and Dick knew just where to find it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, as always, to BryroseA! And to all of you who have stuck around. We're getting near the end!


	13. Chapter 13

Dick was pretty pleased with himself as he opened the frosted glass door with the Mars Investigations logo on it. He’d sat trying to figure out how to ask Ronnie for her help for a good ten minutes that morning after realizing that MI was his best bet at finding Susan’s baby. He was well aware that putting up with him from afar as Logan’s friend-that-she-didn’t-have-to-see was one thing, but making direct contact to hire her would be something else entirely.   He also knew that he could go through Mac; now that she was a partner, she could take clients of her own too. But hiring Ronnie or Mac felt too weird, and besides, Dick was sure that he was better off not letting them know what he was up to. He didn’t think he could take it if they shot down his only idea to make up for things with Susan. Then it occurred to him - _Mr. Mars can help me_! Dick had called him immediately and set up an appointment for lunch, hoping the ladies would be out of the office when he got there.

Glancing quickly at Mac’s desk, Dick sighed in relief when he saw that it was empty. He sat on the well-worn couch next to Veronica’s office door to wait, and gasped softly when he realised that he could hear her talking in her office.

“- don’t know what we’ll do, Mac. Our rent agreement is with the current owner of the building. When he sells it, the new owners can do what they want with this office and the rent.”

Dick closed his eyes when Mac responded. Maybe if he stayed really quiet, they wouldn’t come out while he was sitting here.

“Well that really sucks. But we’re good until the end of the year, right? They need to give us at least a few months notice. Don’t worry, Bond. We’ll figure something out.”

“You still happy you invested now that the less fun part of business owning is rearing its ugly head?” Dick could hear the smirk in Veronica’s voice.

“Pshaw! If having the rent raised is the worst part of owning a business, I’m not scared,” Mac replied, confident.

“Yeah, well, the problem is with all the buyers snatching up the land around here for luxury condos. I’m not sure we’ll be able to stay here or afford whatever rent they’ll want to charge, and then what? There aren’t a whole lot of affordable offices left in Neptune with enough room for all of us. Stupid owners! Don’t they know that they’re getting in the way of my plan for PI world domination?”

“C’mon, V, let’s go drown our sorrows in Thai food. I’m hungry and it’s lunch time.”

Dick could hear rustling and chairs scraping inside the office and he started to panic. Thankfully, Mr. Mars chose that moment to open his office door and Dick shot through it like his chair was on fire, without even waiting for an invitation.

“Dick…uh, come right in then…”

The timing couldn’t have been any better. Just as Mr. Mars closed his door, Dick caught Mac’s faint voice, “Did Keith just welcome Dick? What’s _he_ doing here?”

“Mr. Mars, sir, um, do you think you could lock the door? I don’t really want the Wonder Twins out there walking in.”

Mr. Mars’ right eyebrow shot up when Dick called him “sir” and then the left one followed at the end of the request, but he kept his curiosity to himself and turned the lock seconds before the doorknob jiggled in his hand. Keeping his eyes on Dick, he called out, “Have a good lunch, girls!”

Through the door, the men could here Veronica harrumph, and reply, “Dick, what are you-”

Mr. Mars cut her off. “Bring me back some Pad Thai, will you? Thanks, honey.”

Dick chuckled at the way Mr. Mars wrangled Veronica. It wasn’t every day that he got to see her shut down, and her dad was likely the only person able to get away with it. Even including Logan. _Especially_ including Logan.

When they heard the outer door close and main room go quiet, Keith took a seat behind his desk and Dick sat in the opposite chair. “Uh, thanks, sir. I appreciate that.”

“You understand that the nature of our business means that they will likely find out why you’re here eventually, right? You’ve met Veronica? She’ll find out whatever she wants to know. Mac isn’t far behind her, with that supercomputer of hers.”

“I am well aware of Ronnie’s nosiness, and Mac’s too. I just didn’t want to be around when they heard what I wanted; I don’t need the comments from the peanut gallery. I’ll deal with them some other time.”

Keith sat forward and clasped his hands on his desk. “So what can I do for you, then?”

Dick proceeded to tell Mr. Mars about his struggle with sobriety and AA and the twelve steps. He was sure that the other man probably knew all about it anyway, but, for some reason, Dick wanted to be the one to tell him what was going on. Mr. Mars was the one adult in his life who seemed decent and Dick wanted to prove to _someone_ that he was working hard on fixing his shit.

“Logan mentioned that all your hard work was paying off. I’m glad to see it for myself.” Keith looked Dick in the eyes, as though he knew that Dick was looking for someone’s approval. “Well done, Dick. You should be proud of yourself. I’ll help you any way I can.”

Warmth ran through Dick at the praise. _It must be nice, having someone believe in you all the time. Ronnie’s fucking lucky._ “Uh, thanks, sir. That’s what I was hoping. See, I’d like to find Susan Knight’s baby.”

Keith sat back in his chair, clearly surprised by the request. “I’m pretty sure that baby belonged to your high school history teacher, Dick. What’s your concern in all this?”

Dick’s knee bounced up and down nervously and he looked away from Mr. Mars while he spoke. “It was the only way I could think of to make it up to Susan for what happened on the boat. She was depressed about the baby, that’s why she was using. I figured, maybe I could at least make sure that the kid got a decent education. You know, set up a trust fund or something.”

Keith stared unwavering at Dick until the latter finally met his eyes. “That’s very decent of you, but let me just add that I hope you don’t think your money is going to buy you forgiveness.”

Since Dick half expected this response, he was ready for it and stayed firm, “I know. But seeing as it’s impossible to ask forgiveness to a dead person, and Ouija boards freak me the fuck out, it’s all I’ve got to make amends to Susan. They aren’t all going to be this ‘easy’.” He used air-quotes on the last word and then stopped, considering the older man. “But I’m sure that you know that already. Sir.”

“Look, Dick. I have no idea what happened between you and my daughter, and I trust that it’s probably for everyone’s own good that it remains that way. But we both know that she won’t be bought.”

“Of course not, sir. Some people can’t be bought and I’m not in the business of ‘buying people’ either. Not anymore, anyway. But frankly, I figure that I have a lot of money that can do more good in this world than sitting in some bank account somewhere making me richer, or worse, tempting me to spend it on useless or dangerous things. And if I have to give away every last dime to make other people’s lives easier, isn’t that the best use for it?” Dick shrugged. “Seems like it to me, anyway.”

Dick saw Keith, clearly approving of what he heard, nod and smile slightly. “Well said, Dick. Ok, you passed my bullshit-meter test. I’ll see what I can find about Susan’s baby and then get back to you. Go meet with your people and get the fund set up.”

Dick stood and held out his hand to shake. “Thanks, Mr. M. I appreciate your help.”

The older man stood and took Dick’s hand in both of his. “I think if you keep up with that kind of attitude, you’ll do OK, Dick. And from now on, please call me Keith.”

Dick’s eyes went wide and a blush crept over his face. “Uh, sure, Keith. Um, thanks.” Turning, he rushed out of the office before he said something to change Keith’s mind.

Once back in his car, Dick pulled out his phone and flipped through his contacts until he found the one he wanted. “Hi, this is Dick Casablancas. I have one more item to add to the agenda for the meeting later. Yeah, there’s a building for sale that I want. The address is 1721 Harper Blvd. Find a way to make it happen.” 

* * *

 

Mac and Veronica came back from lunch, Pad Thai in hand, less than an hour later. Mac opened the outer door slowly, hoping to overhear Dick and Keith talking, but when they saw Keith’s office door open, Veronica wasted no time marching directly into his office. Mac stopped at her desk to drop her purse into her drawer before following. It wasn’t that she wasn’t curious; it was just that she thought Veronica was overreacting to the situation just a tad. Mac had spent the better part of the last hour hemming and hawing as Veronica ranted about all the possible reasons why Dick could have met with Keith. Mac didn’t really know why, but she was pretty sure that it wasn’t to “find all the possible kids he could have sired.”

Mac entered Keith’s office and saw Veronica move to hand him the take out container. Just before he grabbed it, she pulled it out of reach and said, “Woah, there, bucko. You can have this delicious noodle concoction –” Veronica waved the bag under Keith’s nose. “ – just as soon as you spill about what Dick Casablancas needed to meet with you about.”

Keith’s eyes drifted shut as he took a deep sniff of his lunch. “Honey…I’m huuunggrryyy,” he whined. Opening his eyes, he looked sternly at his daughter. “I give you food and shelter for the better part of your life, and _this_ is how you repay your poor old man. Shame, woman!”

Mac snorted at the Mars’ antics. “Oh, just give him the food, V. You know he’s going to tell us. If he doesn’t you’ll just snoop through his files to find out anyway.”

With a snide look of victory, Veronica dropped the bag on Keith’s desk and moved to sit in the nearest chair. “There; now spill, daddy dearest.”

Mac sat in the chair next to Veronica’s and leaned her elbows on the desk. _He couldn’t really be looking for any possible kids, right? He knew to protect himself. Right?_

Chopsticks in hand, Keith took a few bites of his lunch before explaining. “Dick came asking us to find someone.”

“AHA! I told you!” Veronica exclaimed triumphantly as Mac’s heart sank. _Or maybe he didn’t know any better._ Mac didn’t know why the thought of Dick being so irresponsible bothered her. It wasn’t like it was out of character or anything. But the thought of any of his kids out there, unknown in the wild, bugged her.

Keith looked up, eyebrows raised, mid-bite. “Terph herph werf?” He chewed quickly, swallowed and tried again. “Told her what?”

“That Dick was trying to track down any Junior Jrs.” Mac saw Veronica shudder.

“Err…sorry, sweetheart, but your victory dance was premature. Dick asked me to find _Susan_ ’s baby.” Keith continued eating as though he hadn’t just dropped an atomic bomb sized piece of information.

Mac couldn’t contain her surprise. “Susan _Knight’s_ baby?” She bolted upright in her seat. “Why?”

Wracking her brain, Mac tried to reason it out. _The baby couldn’t have been his._ Someone _would have said something. Mr. Rooks was fired, for Christ sake._ In the time that it took Keith to finish his mouthful of food, Mac had run through and discarded a dozen different possibilities.

Keith wiped his mouth with a napkin before answering. “He said he wanted to open a trust fund to send the kid to college. He thought it would be a good way to make amends to Susan for what happened, since apparently she was upset about giving away the baby and he couldn’t exactly ask for her forgiveness directly.”

Mac sat stunned. _Well I’ll be damned_. She knew that Dick was working on making amends to all the people he had hurt by his drinking and drug use, but she’d never thought that he felt bad about what happened on the boat. He’d been unconscious and had had nothing to do with the decision that the others had made. Mac snapped back to the present when Veronica snorted sarcastically.

“Throw money at the problem. The rich man’s way.”

Mac stood up and headed back to her desk to get back to work, but replied matter-of-factly, “At least he’s trying, Bond. What else did you want him to do, hold a séance? Better he use his money for something decent than buying more booze and drugs, no?” She turned to quirk an eyebrow at Veronica before walking out of the door and so caught the slightly chastened expression cross her friend’s face.

“Well, geez, Mac. Make me sound like a bitch, why don’t you.” Veronica pushed herself up from her chair. “Fine, I guess it is kind of a nice thing to do. But if you tell him I said so, I’ll taze you.”

Mac nodded and turned to go, so she missed the considering look Veronica was giving her as she walked away. 

* * *

 

It was about a week later before the subject of Dick came up again between them.

“What’s going on tonight, Mac-Attack?” Veronica asked as she threw herself down on the couch in the waiting area of Mars Investigations.

Mac remained focused on her screen, typing furiously as she answered. “Dick texted me that he got an advanced copy of Assassin’s Creed XII. You?”

Veronica stared at her intently, like she would a client she wanted to interrogate. “Logan said we needed to break in the new lounger we bought for our deck. So nothing as exciting as you, clearly,” she said.

Hearing the dry, sarcastic tone Veronica used, Mac stopped what she was doing to look up and reply, challenging: “Did you guys want to join us? We could braid each other’s hair and paint each other’s nails between shooting bad guys.”

Veronica sighed and held up two fingers. “Peace, friend. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Relenting, Mac’s demeanour softened. “Look, Veronica, I know that you have your issues with Dick. Hell, I had mine too, though I grant you not as bad as yours. But at some point, I needed to listen to my shrink and just let it go. He’s…not the same guy he was in high school and college. I hated that guy, just like you do. But I guess –” Mac paused to swallow and look at her hands which were fumbling with a paperclip, “– he’s tried so hard this last year to be someone else. I’ve seen him do it. And this new Dick…isn’t so bad.”

“Are you seriously telling me to forgive Dick Casablancas and just forget what he did to me?” Veronica asked, now sitting ramrod straight with her voice tightly controlled.

“Not even a little bit. I’m just telling you that _I_ have.” Mac shrugged. “He told me some of what he figured out in therapy. I’m not saying he had a good excuse or anything, but I guess I just understand him a little more now, that’s all.”

Veronica opened her mouth in rebuttal but shut it again when the door opened and Logan walked in. He stopped quickly when the tense air of the room hit him and looked back and forth between his girlfriend and her best friend. His red-carpet grin spread on his face as he made what was clearly an attempt to diffuse the situation with some charm. “Was I supposed to bring the mud pit?” He rubbed his hands together excitedly. “Oooh goodie. This night just got even better than I thought it would be. Where are the bikinis?”

Mac and Veronica ignored him, staring at each other, one patient and the other strained. With a visible effort, Veronica relaxed her countenance, put a smile on her face and turned to her boyfriend. “OK, perv. You can just stop those thoughts right there. Mac –” Veronica stood up and looked over at Mac. “ – I’m going to take this one home before he embarrasses himself anymore than he already has.” The way she was looking at Mac, though, made it clear just who was embarrassed. “Have fun tonight. Okay?”

Nodding acceptance of the veiled apology - _You’ll have to deal eventually, but I’ll let it go for now. -_ Mac replied, “Okay. You two crazy kids have fun christening your new furniture. Just keep it away from the neighbours, would you?”

“I make no promises,” Logan smirked as Veronica pushed him out the door and right into Dick Casablancas himself. “Dick.” Logan stuck out his fist for Dick to bump.

“Logan, Ronnie.” Dick acknowledged them as they went by. Veronica nodded without a word, but her manner was civil as she walked by. Before walking into the waiting elevator, she stopped and turned to him. “Uh, you and Mac have fun with your game tonight,” she said awkwardly.

“Uh, yeah. Th-thanks,” Dick stuttered in shocked reply. “You guys, uh, have a good night, too.”

Dick watched Veronica smile briefly and then get on the elevator, Logan looking at her as though she’d grown a second head. Then the doors closed and he was alone.

Dick had actually arrived at the building a few minutes earlier to pick up Mac, but had overheard the girls talking when he showed up, and had stepped around the corner so that he wouldn’t get caught. Hearing Mac tell Veronica that she’d forgiven him made him want to weep with joy. _Pull yourself together, idiot. You might be new and improved, but that doesn’t mean you need to be all emo and shit. Besides, all that means is that she’s your friend now, and you already figured that out. Don’t go fucking it all up now._

Turning, he entered the Mars Investigations office and forced himself to sound normal. “Hey, Mackie! You ready to get pwned?”

“Nobody over the age of twenty says ‘pwned,’ Dick,” Mac replied, shaking her head. “Look, just so that the elephant in room is out in the open, let me just say this. I know what you’re trying to do for Susan’s baby and I think it’s great.”

Dick looked at the floor trying to find the words to get at what he wanted to say. He looked up and stared Mac straight in the eye, hoping she understood what he meant. “Thanks for…understanding me.”

Mac blushed, realising that he must have overheard her conversation with Veronica. “You’re welcome,” she said simply.

The simple look that passed between them quickly turned sizzling surprising them both so much that they looked away. Dick was the first to recover, and joked to cover the moment, “I assume that you also understand that you need to get ready to lose.” He walked towards the door.

Taking her cue from Dick, Mac grabbed her purse and followed him out. “What I understand is that I’m going to take you down like the _loser_ that you are.” She shut the lights off and pulled the door closed behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to bryrosea for her super beta skillz. Thanks as well to all of you who continue to follow and comment and read.


	14. Chapter 14

“Hey, Mr. - Keith. I’m not sure how this stuff normally works, but, um, isn’t, like, two weeks kinda soon to have information already?” Dick walked up to the small table in Starbucks and sat down facing Keith, who was already half way through his cup of coffee.

“That’s why we charge you the big bucks! How are you, son?” Keith reached his hand across the table for Dick to shake.

Dick shrugged. “I’m doing good. Taking it day by day. Surfing. Business meetings. Some volunteer work with the Neptune Food Bank.”

Keith nodded in approval. “Good for you. I’m sorry that I asked to meet here, but I found out two pieces of information, and I thought it would be better if Veronica didn’t hear us talking.” He shot Dick a wry smile.

“Oookay…Uh, what did you find?”

“Well, first, you’ll be happy to know that I managed to track down the baby. Well, not so much a baby anymore, she’s a teenager now and living up near San Francisco.”

“That’s great! Do you think her parents will take the money? What do I do now?” Dick was practically bouncing in his seat with excitement. _Another step closer._

“Well, I hope you don’t mind, but I took it upon myself to speak with her parents. They’re a nice, middle class couple. She’s a dentist, he sells cars. But your offer actually happened at a pretty opportune moment.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the dealership where her dad worked burnt down a few months ago, and money was already kind of tight. They had to dip into their savings, so…” Keith shrugged. “After I explained what had happened to Susan and what you wanted, they feel like they won the lottery. Consider yourself Santa Claus. They were very grateful for the opportunity you’d be giving Monica. That’s her name, by the way. Monica Edwards.”

“Dude, that’s awesome news! I mean – not dude – I mean – ” Dick stopped, flustered.

Keith just laughed. “I understand, Dick. I’ll have you know that I _was_ a “dude” one upon a time. Yes sir, back in ’77! With my Trans Am and Blue Oyster Cult on the 8-track. Man, those were the days.”

“For making this happen, I’ll get you that Trans Am again if you want it. Thanks so much, sir, um, Keith.” Dick reached around to his back pocket to pull out his phone to call his lawyers when Keith held up one finger.

“Speaking of gratitude, that brings me to the other thing I found out, and the reason we are discussing this away from prying ears.”

Dick froze, suspecting that he knew what was coming.

“I found out last week that the building that houses my office was sold.” Keith let the statement hang between them.

Familiar with the interview technique used not only by former sheriffs but by businessmen everywhere during negotiations, Dick matched Keith stare for stare and remained silent.

Impressed by Dick’s composure, Keith decided to give the kid a break. “I couldn’t figure out why the new lease didn’t come with a hefty raise of my rent, so I dug around a little to try to find out what the owner’s plans were. So, what _are_ your plans, Dick? Decided to follow in your old man’s footsteps?”

“I’m nothing like my father. I just decided that the building was a good investment,” Dick explained in a low, measured tone.

“I apologize; I was out of line.” Keith’s manner didn’t appear sorry in the least.

_Nice try, dude, but I know that trick too._

Keith continued, “The building _is_ a good investment. But I would assume that a smart owner would take advantage of said investment to its full potential. I’m not stupid, Dick. I know what the land is worth. So why don’t you tell me what’s really going on here.”

Dick sighed and gave in. _Maybe I can convince him not to tell Ronnie_.

“I overheard Ronnie and Mac talking about your problems with the rent. Since I owe you guys –” Dick stopped and tried again, choosing different words to attempt to make Keith understand without offending him.

“Look, I know Mac invested with you guys. I helped her put together her proposal. And she’s just been…she’s been so great.” Dick blushed and looked at his hands. “I owe her. Big time.” He took a deep breath and looked up. “And you, too.”

“Me?” Keith asked, surprised. “What did I do? You’re already paying for the baby search.”

Dick shook his head. “Not that. I can’t explain it, but, uh, you kind of, um, inspired me while I was working through things about my parents. Whatever, man. Look, you and Mac – and Ronnie – you’re good people and you deserve good things. But I knew that you wouldn’t take a hand-out if I offered and that’s not what this is anyway. I’m still charging you rent; I’m just not scamming you while I do it.” He smiled wryly at Keith, who chuckled in return. “Besides, I was looking for some space for some other projects I’m helping to fund. Two birds, one stone. _You_ can stop worrying about sleazy landlords and _I_ get responsible tenants. In business we call that a win-win scenario.”

Keith took a long, considering look at Dick. “I assume that you would prefer if Veronica doesn’t find out about this little arrangement?”

Dick nodded. “You assume right.”

“OK, I’ll keep your secret, Dick.” He paused and then looked as though he’d made up his mind about something. “I’m having a Bar-B-Q Sunday. Why don’t you join us?”

A snort erupted from Dick. “I don’t think Ronnie would like that too much, but thanks for asking. Maybe I’ll take a rain check for whenever she can stand to be in the same room with me.” He stuck out his hand. “Thanks, Keith, for everything. I’ll have my lawyers contact you for the girl’s info.”

Keith shook his hand in return. “I appreciate your respect for Veronica. I hope you can make it sometime soon. If you need anything, though, son, you can always call.”

Dick bobbed his head in appreciation and made his way out of the café, feeling a little lighter than when he came in. 

* * *

 

The sun crested the horizon and the sky was an array of oranges and pinks. Veronica had been jogging for the better part of an hour already, Pony at her heels, trying to use up some of the rage-fuelled energy coursing through her. She had barely slept that night, tossing and turning next to Logan until he’d started to stir for the second time. The first time she’d woken him, he had attempted to bliss her into oblivion, and as much as she’d enjoyed the attempt, it hadn’t gotten her to sleep. So when she felt him shift restlessly next to her as she rolled over yet _again_ , she gave up, threw on some sweats and her running shoes, and took off down the beach, Pony in tow.

_What the fuck is Dick up to? Why would he buy our building? Is he trying to get me to kill him?_

The afternoon before, Veronica had been getting ready to close up shop for the day when she heard a bewildered Mac exclaim, “Well I’ll be damned!”

“What’s wrong?” Veronica peaked around her doorframe while she grabbed her jacket from the adjacent hook.

“It was Dick.” Mac hit a button on her keyboard and immediately the printer behind her started spitting out paper.

“What was Dick?”

“The new owner you asked me to track down. It’s Dick,” Mac answered, handing Veronica the freshly printed papers. “Look.”

Veronica grabbed the sheets and scanned them quickly. “But why? What is he planning? I knew the ‘no raised rent’ thing was too good to be true.” Her eyes narrowed as she read.

Mac looked at her friend questioningly. “So what, though? I mean, what does it matter who owns the building as long as we can stay in it? Yay for us, no?”

“No! _Boo_ for us!” Veronica started mumbling to herself, her brain clearly gone into overdrive. “He must be up to something. Maybe his dad got him to front for him?” She looked up at Mac. “Can you keep digging?”

Mac shook her head. “What for? So Dick bought a building. He could probably buy ten more. And it means we get to not have to pack up all of the crap your dad thinks he’s got well hidden so we don’t know what a hoarder he is. Turn your gaze from the gift horse’s mouth.” She started to shut down her computer and pack up her stuff. “I’m sure this is nothing, V. He probably found out it was coming up for sale when he helped me put together the investment proposal and made a business deal. I have too many other cases to dig around in to waste time on nothing.”

“So you’re OK with the idea that Dick can control our future on a whim? You’re comfortable with that scenario? Because, I gotta tell you, Mac, I’m sure as hell not going to bet my business on a fucking Casablancas!”

Keith opened his office door, his face making it clear that he’d heard their conversation. “Veronica, Dick explained his reasons to me. He’s not out to hurt us. It’s just him trying to do something good with his money. He was looking to invest for some charities that need space. We’re just the icing on the cake.”

Veronica whirled to face her dad. “You knew? And you didn’t think _I’d_ appreciate being told that bit of information? You knew I didn’t buy the whole rent thing and you still didn’t tell me.”

“Because I figured that you would overreact. Boy was I wrong.” Keith replied dryly.

Mac chimed in, quiet but firm. “Veronica, Dick wouldn’t screw us that way. Not after his dad. Not after Cassidy. He’s changed and he’s trying to prove it. I think that’s all this is.”

“I will not – ” Veronica held up the papers in her hand, eyes blazing, “ – give money to that man. I need to get out of here.” Her hair was flying behind her as she stormed out the door.

Twelve hours later, the anger from her discovery was finally dimming as Veronica hit the zone, the sand and waves racing by lulling her mind. In the distance, she spotted a blond figure in a wetsuit sitting on the beach, surfboard standing along side. The anger that had subsided rushed back in like the surf and Veronica took off down the beach, wishing she’d brought her tazer.

* * *

 Dick was sitting in the sand staring at the waves, elbows propped on his knees when a dog ran up and barked at him. Seeing that it was Pony, he reached out and scratched the dog behind the ears, looking around to see if Logan was joining him to go surfing.   _Good, he’ll be able to tell me whether or not Ronnie cooled down yet._ Mac had called him the night before to let him know that his secret was out of the bag and to find out why he’d bought the building. Deciding that he owed her the truth, he told her it was a gift for her and Keith for helping him with his recovery. To his surprise, she hadn’t given him a hard time at all but been genuinely grateful, and then warned him to stay out of Veronica’s way until she cooled down.

When Dick saw that it was her running up the beach after Pony, looking anything but cooled down, he hung his head and swore, “Fuck.”

“Whatever it is you’re planning to do to me with that building, you can just undo it, Dick. I’m not screwing around,” Veronica spat at him as she ran up. She stopped three feet in front of him, legs planted and hands on her hips, ready to do battle.

Dick sagged at her onslaught; Veronica towered over him, her anger inflating her presence despite her small size. He didn’t want to provoke her further but desperately wanting to explain himself. _What the fuck can I say that will change her mind?_ He took a deep breath and tried anyway.

“Not everything in this world is about you, Ronnie. Logan might revolve around you like a planet, but that doesn’t mean the rest of the world does.” _Shit, that came out wrong._ His thought was confirmed when it looked like Veronica’s head would explode.

Dick held up a hand before she could say anything. “Look, that came out wrong. I’m sorry. What I should have said was that I overheard you and Mac talking by accident about your rent problem. Since I was trying to figure out how to thank Mac and your dad for helping me get sober –”

Veronica cut him off. “My dad?”

Dick shook his head. “Never mind, it’s a long story. Anyway, when I heard about your problem, I decided to do this as a thank you for them. This was never about you. I know that there isn’t anything I can do to make up for what I did to you.” Veronica snorted, and Dick shrugged. “I won’t stop trying to figure something out, though. Until then, just know that I’m totally sorry and I’ll stay out of your way as much as I can.”

Dick could see the emotions on Veronica’s face, held barely in check. Tears glistened in her eyes, but he was certain that they were angry tears, not tears because she was touched by his completely useless speech or anything. Knowing she probably hated that he noticed, he returned his attention back to the sunrise to let her slip whatever battle mask she wanted into place. _The least I can do is sit here and take whatever she wants to throw at me._

Veronica took a few steps away from where Dick was sitting and turned toward the ocean as well. She remained that way when she finally spoke. There was no perceptible waver in her voice; it was filled with cold bitterness.

“You’re a fucking bastard attempted rapist disgusting man-whore slut drunk druggie misogynistic _pig_ who told his psychotic fuck-up brother to rape me.” The words came out almost as one, as though now that she had allowed herself to say them, they were fighting each other to be the next one out of her mouth.

Dick couldn’t say who made the whimper that filled the subsequent silence, but he couldn’t stop the tears that flowed down his face and he could hear Veronica sniffling over the crash of the waves.

_I didn’t think he would ever do it!_

_I’d taken the drugs together with Madison before. I thought it was OK!_

_I didn’t know any better! I was a fucked up kid!_

_I’ve changed! I’m trying so hard, can’t you see that, dammit!_

Excuse after excuse, justification after justification ran through his head and he discarded every one as certifiable bullshit. He’d been a fuck-up. He knew that nothing he could say could make right what he’d done at one stupid party over fifteen years ago and that she’d had to live with the consequences every day since. _How has she been able to? I’ve known for less than a year and it’s fucking killing me every. single. day._

Dick couldn’t take the guilt anymore; he had to say something. “I was, yeah. But I wake up every morning and try to figure out a way not to be that guy anymore. All these fucking projects and business deals I’m doing – Susan’s kid - they’re the only way that I know how to show everybody that I’m trying.” Dick climbed to his knees in the sand, begging. “Ronnie - please.”

“I’ve tried, Dick. For Logan.” Veronica turned to face him, her expression was guarded and her arms crossed, but she was no longer crying. “It’s been one disgusting thing after another from you for the last twenty years. How can you expect me to forget that? Your drinking and drugs hurt him, you know, especially after he got clean. And then look at what happened with Susan. Tell me, what would you have done if you would’ve been awake, huh? Don’t tell me that you wouldn’t have been right alongside the others, holding her feet.”

“NO!” Dick sat back on his heels, deflated. “God, I could never have – No.” Dick said firmly. “It’s been almost a year, Ronnie. No drugs, no drinking. No dealers around, no girls. No raves, no keggers. Nothing. It’s been video games and mini golf and surfing and diet soda. You’ve seen it. You’ve heard about it. Mac has forgiven me, even. Doesn’t that help?” He turned his pleading gaze on her.

Veronica shrugged reluctantly. “Mac has been…vocal about her change of opinion. It…hasn’t hurt.”

“See? Tell me. Please, just tell me what I can do. I can’t go back and make that party not happen. I would if I could, I swear it! So what else can I do? You don’t still think I’m that guy, do you?” Dick asked in a small voice. _I’m_ not _that guy anymore. I’m not._

“I don’t know, Dick, alright?” she shouted, arms up in the air. “I don’t know!”

Suddenly, about a hundred feet up the beach, a young woman staggered into view, walking backwards. Her hair was wild, as though she’d put on a ton of hairspray and then slept on it; pieces were standing out in every direction. Her tight black dress was hiked up a little too high and she was brandishing one stiletto like a weapon. She must have come from inside a small cove that Dick knew was in that direction.

A man soon followed, his dress shirt untucked and unbuttoned, flapping in the wind behind him. He looked to be in his early twenties, and they could hear his voice calling to the girl on the wind, “C’mon baby. Don’t be like that. You know you wanted to party. What did you think would happen when I brought you out here? The E was some good stuff, wasn’t it? Come back to the blanket.”

The girl shook her shoe at the guy. “I don’t want to anymore. I just want to go home. I don’t like how it’s making me feel. Make it stop, Marc.” She waved her arms, trying to get away as Marc grabbed for her. “Don’t touch me!”

Without even thinking, Dick leapt up and went racing down the beach towards them. _No fucking way he’s fucking touching that girl._ “Hey! Get away from her! You get away from her, now!”

As he approached, Dick could see the woman start to collapse and her body begin convulsing. “Ronnie,” he called over his shoulder as loud as he could, “call an ambulance!”

“I’ve got her, you get him!” Veronica responded from right behind him. That’s when Dick realised that the guy had let his girlfriend fall in the middle of a seizure and had taken off in the other direction. Dick pushed himself to full speed and caught up to the son of a bitch just as he reached the parking lot. Tackling him to the ground, Dick pinned Marc’s arms behind him, holding him down with one knee while he awkwardly fumbled inside his wetsuit to pull out a spare board leash, which he used to tie up the man’s hands. Then he dragged the guy back to where the girl now appeared unconscious in the sand with Veronica.

“Sit. And don’t move.” Dick pushed the guy down to the ground and turned to the women. “Is she OK?”

“She’s breathing. The ambulance is on its way. They said that if she had a pulse and was breathing to just watch her until they got here.”

Dick knelt down and started to gently move the girl to her left side. “She should be in the recovery position, in case she hurls. It looks like a bad hit.” He turned towards the guy on the ground who wouldn’t even look at the girl. “What did you give her?”

The guy spit at Dick’s feet, so Dick kicked him in the stomach. “Let’s start with something easier then, OK, Marc? That’s what she called you, right? What’s her name?”

Gasping for breath, Marc sneered and shrugged. “You know how it is, man. We didn’t do a whole lot of talking, if you know what I mean. Nancy? Naomi? It started with ‘N,’ I think.”

“Yeah, I know how it is.” Dick kicked him again.

“Dick…” Veronica said in a warning tone, but without too much conviction.

“What? This guy’s a prick.”

“Yeah, but the police will be here in a sec, and I don’t need to deal with you getting arrested on top of things. Not that I don’t wholeheartedly agree with your method of interrogation.”

Dick looked around and, not seeing any police yet despite the sirens in the distance, he pulled back his leg and asked, “What did you give her?”

Just before his foot connected, Marc exclaimed, “Wait! Ok, ok. It was just a hit of E, man. Just to loosen her up!”

Disgusted, Dick bent down and punched the guy in the face. For good measure, Veronica jumped up and kicked him in the balls. “You son of a bitch! You’re going to rot in jail,” she hissed.

Within minutes, the police and paramedics arrived. The girl was sent to the hospital and Marc was properly handcuffed and put in a squad car. During the confusion, Veronica had located their stuff further down the beach and found the girl’s purse with her ID – Natalie Palmer. She’d also found the guy’s wallet, which she managed to rifle through to get his full name before the police came and collected everything. Dick knew that she would spend the rest of the day digging until she found enough evidence to send him away for a good long time.

To Dick’s surprise, just as they were wrapping up their statements to the police, Logan and Mac showed up. Dick assumed Veronica must have sent a few texts letting them know what had happened.

Logan hurried up to them and asked anxiously, “Veronica, are you ok? What the hell happened? I woke up to an empty bed at sunrise and a text saying that you were with Dick at the beach and the cops were here.” He turned toward Dick and scanned him from head to foot. “You look undamaged, but do we need to take you to the hospital to check for internal bleeding?”

“Bond, you didn’t taze him, did you?” Mac cut in warily. “Dick, are you ok?”

Veronica and Dick looked at each other in reluctant amusement. Noticing the civility of the exchange, Logan turned to Mac and said, “Am I still dreaming? Are you sure you’re awake?” He turned back to his best friend and girlfriend. “Care to fill a guy in?”

Veronica shrugged. “I took Pony for a run because I couldn’t sleep and I ran into Dick. I screamed, he cried. No one got hurt.”

Mac and Logan stared at her, incredulous.

“What? This girl showed up, high as a kite, trying to get away from her skeezy rapist date and Dick went all superhero on his ass. There, that’s it. The sum total of the story.”

Dick nodded beside her. “Yup, I saved the day, man. You should have seen me. It was like a scene right out of a cop show.”

“Can we just go, please, Logan? I’m starving and Pony must be exhausted.” Veronica grabbed Logan’s arm and started pulling him away. “Mac, I’ll see you later.”

Logan waved and followed Veronica and Pony back towards their car. Just as Mac and Dick were going to get Dick’s board, Veronica slowed and stopped, staring forward for a minute before turning around.

“Dick!”

Dick quirked an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“You did good. You’re…doing good. Maybe –” Veronica stared at him, considering. “Maybe you wouldn’t have been holding the feet after all.”

Stunned, Dick could only stare mutely at Veronica.

“We’ll see you later at my dad’s. Three o’clock.” Veronica turned and walked away hand in hand with Logan, Pony following.

“Did you really save some girl from being attacked?” Mac asked.

Dick shook his head. “No, she’d pretty much saved herself. But I did stop the guy from getting away.”

Mac stared at him intently, then stepped forward and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips. “Well done, Dick.”

Completely overwhelmed by what was happening, Dick could only stutter, “Uh, sure, yeah. Thanks. Look, Mac, you don’t need to stick around here. I’ve got my car, and Ronnie didn’t do any damage, so…thanks for coming.” He hurried away, leaving a confused Mac in his wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to BryroseA for the encouragement and for keeping my voices on track. We're almost done, folks!


	15. Chapter 15

Dick walked out of the side door of the church munching on an oatmeal raisin cookie, crumbs covering the front of his Addicted to Sobriety T-shirt. Logan followed him out, sipping coffee from a Styrofoam cup.

“Why must every meeting serve the shittiest coffee ever made? It’s like ‘Hey, you can’t drink that wonderful beer you want, so here, let me give you this awesome sludge instead.’” Logan grimaced as he took a last swig from his cup and lobbed it into the bin on the street corner.

“So why do you always take it? You bitch every damn time, dude,” Dick mumbled through a full mouth as he shook his head at his friend. He swallowed and added, “The cookies at this meeting are always the best, though. Makes the trip across town worth it.”

Logan grinned at Dick, slapped a hand on his shoulder and pulled him down the block. “C’mon, man, hurry up. I can already taste the grilled steaks waiting for us.”

“I’m comin’! I’m comin’! Don’t get your panties in a knot.”

The guys ambled back to Logan’s car, parked a few streets over, and climbed in quickly. Logan started the car and was belting himself in when Dick glanced over and away again, out the open window.

“Thanks again, dude. I really appreciate it.”

Logan smirked. “Don’t thank me yet, man. You know Veronica. It’s entirely possible that nothing will be ready when we get there. I mean, she _said_ she was willing to host your birthday party at our place, but she’s been running hot and cold with you, so…” Logan trailed off, his smirk transforming into something a little more sad and regretful.

Dick chuckled and looked over at him. “Don’t worry about it. She’s gone above and beyond already by making me those cupcakes for the meeting. Besides, I wasn’t talking about the party. I meant for your little speech in there. And for this.” He flipped the poker chip-sized bronze token in the air and caught it in one smooth motion. One year sober felt pretty damn good. Better than he thought it would, frankly, and he knew that Logan had played a large role in helping him make it happen.

“Happy 1st birthday, Dick. You worked hard. I meant every word I said.”

“Yeah, well, I seriously couldn’t have done it without you and the others. Ronnie, Keith, even Wallace.” Dick looked away again. “Mac…”

“Well, since _you’re_ bringing up Mac –” Logan grinned as he shifted into drive and pulled into traffic.

Dick cut him off. His face was neutral but his tone shut Logan down. “I’m not, so shut the fuck up.”

“But you just finished saying you appreciate it when I speak,” Logan snarked, laughing.

Dick punched Logan’s arm and remained quiet the rest of the way home, lost in his thoughts. _What do you want me to say, Logan? That I can still feel that kiss from the beach? That the face she makes when she beats the crap out of me at Assassin’s Creed is the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen? That I just want to bury myself in the smell of her neck? Yeah, I don’t think so. She deserves better than Dick Casablancas._

* * *

 

“Slow down, Mac! We’ve still got a few minutes before they get here. Logan just texted me that they only just finished the meeting. It will take them at least twenty minutes to get through traffic,” Veronica declared as she brought the plate of steaks over to the grill.

Keith was inside the house making his special basting sauce and Wallace was tying up the “Happy 1st Birthday” sign to the pergola. Some of Dick’s other friends were lounging around the pool, further down the yard. Mac hadn’t stopped moving around the deck, first stopping at the bar to set up the cans of soda and the lemonade carafe, then moving to the food table to rearrange all of the bowls of salads and chips, and then back again. Currently, she was berating Wallace for hanging the sign slightly crooked. When Veronica’s words finally registered, she whirled around and shot daggers with her eyes at her friend.

“This is a big deal, Veronica. I’m just trying to make sure everything is right.”

Veronica smirked knowingly and held up her hands in surrender. “I know! I’m simply suggesting that you’re being a little bit –” Mac quirked an eyebrow and Veronica quickly amended what she was going to say. “– that you seem stressed out. Perhaps this party you’re working so hard to throw is supposed to mean something more than just that Dick has been sober for a year?”

“Shut up, Bond. We’re just friends,” Mac countered flatly as she busied herself with the paper plates and cutlery.

But Veronica would not be rebuffed. “Sure you are. And you just lost your balance that day at the beach and accidentally kissed him.” When Mac didn’t react, she added, “I saw you, Mac.” She sat down on the deck stairs and pulled Mac down next to her.

Mac leaned her head on the railing and closed her eyes to hide the mortification. “Why didn’t you say anything before now?”

“Because I knew you didn’t want to talk about it. But you’re being particularly Real Housewives of Atlanta today, so I thought it was time.” Veronica nudged Mac with her knee until the latter was looking at her. “Look, despite my past attitude about Dick, you can talk to me, you know. Spill it, Mackenzie.”

A look of defeat crossed Mac’s face and she sighed. “There’s nothing to tell. I kissed him and he ran off. We haven’t really spoken since, but he made it pretty clear that he wasn’t interested. End of story. But at least I can make sure he knows that he’s done well. He deserves that after the last year.”

Mac was staring off at the ocean, so she missed the hard look that Veronica managed to rapidly get under control. She was trying to put the past with Dick behind her. The last few weeks since the incident at the beach hadn’t been easy, but Veronica had finally decided that it was time to just let the past go. Logan and Mac’s continued support of this new Dick was slowly chipping away at her defences, and the PI side of her couldn’t ignore the evidence of his charity work and attempts at making amends. So, in true Veronica Mars fashion, she elected to compartmentalize her feelings into two separate boxes: one for the old, sleazy Dick Casablancas and one for the new, philanthropic one. If she treated them as two separate entities in her mind, the whole thing was easier to process.

Especially if her best friend was falling in love with him. Veronica shook her head, “For someone normally so brilliant, you’re an idiot.” Mac shot her a look, eyes wide. “Any half decent PI can see that he’s just scared shitless of how much he loves you.” Veronica tilted her head, and tapped her finger to her chin in thought. “I may need to rethink your salary, Q. Maybe you’re not as good as I’m paying you to be.”

Mac blushed a brilliant red and pulled herself up from the stairs. “You’re delusional, V. Give _yourself_ that pay cut.” She made her way down the stairs and started towards their friends at the pool. “That’s enough girl talk. I need to go wash it off with a swim.” She pulled her Nerds Do It Better T-shirt over her head and jumped into the pool before anyone could ask her what was wrong.

Wallace walked over to where Veronica was still sitting on the stairs. “Girl’s got it bad.”

Veronica nodded, still watching Mac. “That she does, Wallace. That she does.”

* * *

 

It had been a nice party. The steaks were cooked to perfection care of Keith and the friendly poker game that closed out the night had been a riot even when Dick lost every penny he had on him to Veronica, as usual. _You really should know better than to play poker with Ronnie, dumbass. At least it was only a hundred dollar buy-in._

The only stain on an otherwise perfectly fun evening had been his interactions with Mac. He had been pleasantly surprised at the congratulatory hug he’d gotten when he arrived and thought that they had maybe moved past the awkwardness from the kiss at the beach. But no such luck. She had remained distant and aloof the remainder of the evening, always jumping up to go get somebody something or cleaning up after everyone. They’d barely said more than three sentences to each other all night. He’d watched her, though, and he wasn’t so out of practice that he didn’t know she was watching him too.

Mac looking away just as he turned in her direction, her cheeks pink, her lips slightly parted.

Mac taking a split second too long answering Katy’s question as she tried to refocus her mind away from listening to a story he was telling Dave.

Mac’s back going rigid when Dave asked him if he was going to get back in the dating game now that his one year hiatus was up.

And he was no better. Despite her attempts at avoidance, she at least made sure he was well looked after by continuously refilling snack bowls wherever he was, or bringing fresh drinks to whatever group he was talking with. Each time he would see her coming – of course – but turn away at the last minute so that he wouldn’t have to face her shunning him yet again.

One time they were too slow and their eyes met by accident, leaving Dick feeling as though they were transported into a dark tunnel, cutting off everything around them. The space between them crackled with not only desire, but emotions as well, the intensity of which Dick could not understand. _This is Mac! She can’t possibly feel this way about another Casablancas!_

Logan, catching the eye-fuck that passed between them, had leaned over and whispered, “You have to know she wants you too, dude. Your year is over. Just let yourself deserve this.”

But Dick pushed him away and moved to the other side of the pool, away from Mac.

Now it was hours later and Dick was tucked in bed after succumbing in the shower to his thoughts of her. The brief physical reprieve had not helped, though, and he tossed and turned until he finally fell into a restless sleep, the bronze chip on his dresser glinting in the light from his alarm clock.

 

> The wind from the ocean ruffles his hair and, even though it is too dark to see the waves, he knows the ocean-view on this side of the hotel like he knows his own face. The smell of sun-heated asphalt burns his nose. The pink neon letter G of the sign peaking over the edge of the roof adds barely any light to the surroundings, but the boy on the edge of the wall stands out to Dick as though he is bathed in a spotlight shining down from heaven. Dick can see Logan and Veronica standing not far away, hanging on to each other fiercely, gun still in Logan’s hand.
> 
> “Beaver, don’t!” Logan cries, desperate, taking a step towards the edge.
> 
> “My _name_ is Cassidy!” Dick hears his brother shout back.
> 
> _No no no no no no no no……Please, not this. God, not this._
> 
> Dick finds himself on his knees, doubled over, eyes scrunched tightly closed and hands over his ears. He rocks himself, creating white noise in his mind to block the scene playing out in front of him.
> 
> Suddenly, he feels a set of arms surround him. “Dick! Breathe, Dick! Stop! I’ve got you. C’mon, I’ve got you.”
> 
> He lets himself be gathered into Mac’s embrace until Logan shouting his brother’s name breaks through his awareness.
> 
> _Oh my God! I can’t let her watch this!_
> 
> “NO! I WILL NOT LET YOU PUT HER THROUGH THIS! DO YOU HEAR ME? NOOOOOO!!!!!!!”

“NOOOO!”

Dick bolted upright in bed, his cry ringing in the darkness of his room. Panting, he clambered out of the tangled sheets and stumbled into the living room where he had left his phone.

<<Can you meet me at the Grand?  
I need to see you>>

 Rereading his text to Mac, he realized how that sounded and quickly sent off another one.

<<I know this sounds like a booty  
call, but it isn’t, I promise>>

Dick stared at his phone for several minutes, willing the text alert to go off. _Please get this text. Please get this text._

*Bee-beep*

                                                        <<I’m on my way>>

Fifteen minutes later, Dick was pacing the lobby of the Neptune Grand in his sleep boxers and T-shirt. He hadn’t even bothered to change before grabbing his phone and keys and driving over. Luckily, the woman working the front desk was an old timer, someone who was familiar with Dick from when he’d stayed there years before, and didn’t ask too many questions.

Mac ran through the front door, hair wild from sleep and wearing her own pajamas, a canvas bag flying behind her. She ran up to him and grabbed his arms, managing to ask, despite being out of breath, “What’s the matter? What happened??

Dick reached out and clutched Mac to his chest in a bone-crushing hug. “You came,” he whispered into her hair.

“Of course I came,” she answered from the crook of his neck, hugging him hard in return before pulling back a bit to inspect him, confused. “Now what’s wrong?”

He smiled slightly at her concern for him, but it soon turned hesitant as he asked, “Would you come to the roof with me?” He felt her stiffen in his arms, but her eyes never wavered from his. “Please? I want to talk to you.”

Mac searched his face a moment longer, nodded and let him lead her by the hand to the elevators and up to the top floor after stopping to grab the blanket he’d left on a nearby chair. They took the staircase the rest of the way and burst onto the dark, smelly roof through the half-stuck door.

Dick walked over to a raised yellow skylight near to where the old Grand sign had been, the original neon letters having been replaced years before. He laid out the blanket and they sat with their backs on the side of the skylight, facing the edge of the roof.

“Why are we here, Dick?” Mac asked quietly after they had sat in silence for a while, staring at the moon.

“Because I couldn’t let you watch him jump, but I needed you to help me deal with it.” Dick knew he wasn’t making any sense to her, but didn’t know where to start.

She nodded as though she understood anyway and waited patiently for him to continue.

“Remember when I was in the hospital after the cliff dive?” When she nodded again, he continued. “That’s when I had the first dream.”

Dick told Mac everything. Every dream, every lesson, every detail. It didn’t matter that he sounded crazy, or that he knew he looked bad in every story he told. She needed to know.

He needed to tell her.

He paused before getting to that night’s dream to let her process what she had heard.

“So different people you know acted as guides in your dreams as you relived scenes from your past, all so that you could see what an actual dick you were, and not only in name?” Mac recapped rather succinctly, in the dry, matter-of-fact way that he lo– _Well shit._

Yes. He’d admit it. That he loved about her.

Thankful that it was so dark she couldn’t see this revelation on his face, Dick instead deflected with a chuckle. “Heh. Yeah, I guess you could put it that way.”

Mac contemplated everything Dick had told her for several minutes before looking at him curiously and asking, “How real do you think these dreams were? I mean, you were physically there during each of the events that you saw, right?”

This was something Dick had spent hours trying to figure out himself, so he wasn’t the least bit surprised by Mac’s question. “I can’t be sure, but I think – they felt real to me. Makes you wonder who’s out there pulling the strings, anyway.”

Mac went quiet again, absorbing the implications of Dick’s conclusions. Dick could see her trying to wrap her mind around it and then saw disappointment flicker across her face and then disappear behind a neutral mask. “So, uh, how do you think the guides were chosen?” she asked.

Dick shrugged. “I think it was whoever The Powers That Be decided best fit the scenario, I guess. They were all people who were important to me somehow, though.”

He could feel Mac’s shoulders sag and decided to put an end to what he thought she might be feeling. “I had one last dream tonight. You were the guide this time.” At this, her head shot up and he could feel her gaze on him even as he stared straight ahead at the edge of the roof.

“I guess The Powers decided to leave the most important event for last. I’d been wondering why I hadn’t been shown it yet, to tell you the truth. And they chose the most important person to get me through it.”

“The night Cassidy died.” Mac stated quietly.

Dick finally turned to face her. The sky was lightening slightly in that magic hour before sunrise, so he could see the glint of the tears in her eyes. He nodded.

“You showed up just before he jumped. I couldn’t let you watch it, even if you weren’t real. I couldn’t put you through that, so I made myself wake up.”

He reached for her hands and she reached for his in turn, each finding comfort in the other.

“Mackie, I’m sorry I’ve been an ass since the beach. It just makes no sense to me that you could have, you know, feelings for me after all the shit that happened with Cassidy. But when you showed up tonight in my dream, I knew that if we had a fucking chance in hell of being together, we needed to talk about this.” Dick shrugged. “So I called you.”

“I dealt with Cassidy a long time ago, Dick. He can’t hurt me anymore and this will only keep hurting you if you let it. But I’ll try and help. What can I do?” Mac squeezed his hands and shifted slightly closer.

“Tell me what you know about that night? What happened? No one ever really told me. I mean, I know he blew up that plane with Woody on it, and that he jumped, and that Logan and Ronnie were there, but not any of the details.” Dick closed his eyes and tried to replay his dream on the backs of his eyelids. “In my dream, Logan and Ronnie were hugging and Logan had a gun in his hand. Why did he have a gun?”

When he opened his eyes, Mac was looking at him, horror-stricken. He pulled his hands away and jumped up, backing away from her. “Oh God, Mackie, I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t want ghost-you to see it, and here I am asking you to tell me. God, I’m a fucking idiot! It’s OK, just go. You don’t need to deal with this shit. Just call Logan for me, OK? Tell him I’ll meet him at my place in twenty minutes. I think I need my sponsor.”

Mac jumped up after Dick as he turned away from her, and spun him around. She grabbed his hands again and looked him straight in the eyes. “No. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. I just –” She took a deep breath, and it calmed him as much as it seemed to calm her. “I just wish you didn’t have to hear this. I thought you knew. I thought Logan must have told you years ago.”

Dick shook his head. “No. When he offered, I didn’t want to hear it.”

Mac led Dick back to the blanket and they sat down facing each other.

“Look, Dick, I’ve never been good at the sharing thing, so bear with me here.” Dick squeezed her hands. “Um, ok, well…Cassidy had rented a room for us that night, remember?” Dick nodded stiffly once, a flush appearing on his cheeks to match her own. “Yeah, right, well…So, um, we, uh…ugh, OK, fine. We tried to have sex but he couldn’t. God, this is mortifying. Anyway, I decided to take a shower and let him regroup. I guess Veronica texted me to warn me to get away from him and Cass saw it. Apparently, she’d figured out what had happened with the bus and Woody. He texted her back as me and told her to meet him on the roof. The gun – The gun was his. He must have brought it with him.”

Throughout Mac’s tale, Dick let his gaze linger on the spot on the roof where the sign used to be. He knew Cassidy’s body had been found on a car at the bottom of the drop, under that sign. When he felt her tremble, he pulled his eyes back to her, face stoic and insistent. “Go on, Mackie. What happened next?”

“I got out of the shower, and the room had been stripped. No sheets, no towels, my clothes were gone. There was nothing to cover myself with. I figured…” Mac shrugged and looked down, unwilling to meet his eye. “I figured that since we didn’t…you know, since I wasn’t good enough to get him off, this was his payback. I wrapped myself in the shower curtain and curled into a ball in the corner until Veronica and Logan found me.”

Dick reached under her chin and lifted her face to look at him. “No. Jesus, no, Mac. Look, the stripped room you described, I recognize that from a movie he and I watched once. At the end the guy was leaving this girl and he didn’t want her to follow him because it was dangerous or some shit, but she wouldn’t listen. So when she went to take a shower, he took all the stuff so she couldn’t leave the room and follow him. He did it to protect you, Mac. Not to hurt you. If there is one thing I do know about my brother, it’s that he loved you.”

Tears poured down Mac’s face and she choked back a sob. “Man, I really wish I’d known that before. It might have saved me years of sex therapy bills.” She burst out laughing, and even though none of this was funny, Dick joined her. When they calmed, she continued.

“From what Logan told me later, Cassidy met Veronica on the roof and she accused him of blowing up the bus. He confessed and told her about the bomb on Woody’s plane. Veronica thought her dad was on the plane too, and he blew it up while it was overhead. She thought she saw her dad die, Dick. Somehow, she got a text off to Logan to come help, and they fought him for the gun. Veronica got hold of it, and wanted to shoot him. She was…hysterical over her dad, and she’d figured it out about the rape too. Anyway, Logan talked her down, and Cassidy decided to jump while they were distracted. Logan said he tried to stop him, but didn’t know how to. You know the rest.”

When she was done, Mac reached over and hugged Dick. They sat holding each other for a long time before Dick spoke. “Thanks Mackie. I needed to know.”

Mac pulled back. “Logan felt bad for years, you know. Wondering if there was something he could have said or done differently. Cass was his friend, but after hearing what he’d done, God, I can’t imagine how he must have felt. He must have wanted to kill him and save him at the same time.”

Dick had struggled with his anger at Logan already before turning the loathing on himself, so he understood what Mac was trying to say. “I know. I blamed him for a while, too, but it wasn’t his fault. We’re square about that.”

“It isn’t your fault either. Or mine,” Mac told him firmly. “What he did…it was horrible, but it was all on him. There are a lot of things that could have and should have been different, yes; your parents, Woody, that stupid nickname. But many people deal with as much or worse things and they turn out OK. Cassidy chose to do what he did, and then he chose to kill himself, and frankly, if that’s who he really was, the world is better off without him.”

Dick flinched back at her words. “Mac, jeez! That’s harsh!”

Mac let go of Dick completely and he suddenly felt hollow and alone. Her next words didn’t help either. _“_ Maybe, but Cassidy hurt my best friend and killed nine people. He’s not the person I thought he was, and I won’t waste any sympathy for him. Not if I want to live my life. I needed to let go, and I did. It’s how I got better.”

“But he was my brother, damn it!” Dick cried. “I can’t just forget that!”

“I’m not saying that you should. Hold on to the good parts of your brother, and remember those. But box the other, darker person into a separate place, and let that one go. He can’t hurt anyone else anymore, and that’s a good thing.” Mac didn’t reach for Dick again. She just stared at him, patiently waiting to see what he would do. “You can love the brother you had and loathe the villain he became. They don’t have to be the same person. I loved my first boyfriend, but hate the murderer and rapist.” She looked at him wide-eyed and sincere. “I can think that drunken frat boy-you was a douche of the highest magnitude, but still ca-care for this new, sober you. It’s weird, I know, but it works.”

Dick turned and sat back against the skylight again without responding. Mac mimicked his position and waited.

And waited.

Finally, Dick spoke. “Do you think you would be willing to give this former douche of the highest magnitude a chance? Maybe go out on a date tonight?”

Mac smirked. “And here I thought that kissing you the other day pretty much established where I was on the “I’d like us to try this out” scale. Clearly I’ll need to be less cryptic next time.”

“No, I got it,” Dick chuckled softly. “I just didn’t believe you.”

“Well, believe me now.” Mac’s tone was resolute.

They sat a while longer silently watching the sky turn from grey to pink to orange to blue before she shifted and stood, hands on her hips. She looked down on him, uncertainty and determination waging a war on her features. “So? Where are you on the box scenario? Are you packed yet?”

Dick’s gaze continued to stare at the edge of the roof until a slow smile broke across his face and he raised his eyes to meet hers. “Almost. There’s just one more thing.”

Mac furrowed her brow in confusion. “What’s that?”

With the shining, innocent face of a child, Dick asked, “Do you think you could get used to calling me Richard, or maybe Rich? I’m done with being a Dick.”

Mac threw back her head and laughed and then reached out her hand inviting him up. “I think I could manage that, _Rich_. Now lets go buy me breakfast and then I need to go to bed so I’m all energized for our date tonight.”

Richard grabbed her hand and jumped up, feeling giddy. "Our date, huh? Is that so? Well then, damn right you'll need your energy for tonight, babe." He waggled his eyebrows at her. "C'mon, let's go get you fed and well rested. I have a feeling you'll need as much energy as you can get."

Mac, following his lead, replied back in her best Scarlett O'Hara accent. "Why Richard! I do believe you're making inappropriate advances toward me, sir. Whatever shall the others think of my reputation?"

“That you’re too good for me and that I’m the luckiest guy in the world,” he answered her, completely seriously. Dick tugged on Mac’s arm and spun her towards him, catching her by the waist. He reached a hand up to cup her cheek and brought his face mere inches from hers.

“You want this, Mackie? You’re sure?”

Mac nodded, licking her lips unconsciously. “I’m sure. You?”

He kissed her gently in response, deepening the embrace when he felt her open up to him. Before things could get out of control, he pulled back barely an inch, panting for air.

“Come home with me? Just to sleep, I promise. I’m…scared of the dreams today.”

She nodded but he needn’t have worried. He never had another of those dreams again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to my priceless beta, BryroseA. She was invaluable throughout the whole process of writing this story, and I could not have done it without her encouragement, input and mad vocab skillz. Happy beta-versary!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks, as always, to my wonderful beta BryroseA who is helping me figure out the plot of this Dick redemption fic. The idea was mine, but this chapter was inspired by the November fic prompt at vmficrecs.


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